Slo

I am thinking about mystery. About only seeing half of a woman as she looks after you. Her face never being revealed. I am thinking about the bright burst of flavour as you eat the slo berries rolled in suger. The skeletal green stalk throwing shadows on the porcelein plate.. only chunks of heart-red colour where the berries have been.

The flying cord of light that is rich rich wine diluted by the glass, and coming up on the pale wood like an oily display of colours.

I think of the low light shining through the screen, the woven screen with a neat little cirlce in each basket, cast against the wall, and running over my hands as I reach out…

I think of futures. Presents. The array of parallel worlds at my feet.

I’m on my way,

going somewhere

doing something.