mist on the river

mist on the river.

on the meadow. trees floating

& an almost full moon.

Aberfeldy to Pitlochry.

"I gonna show you paradise"
says the spider

to the fly.
"I want to make you stay".
Cerys Matthews.

in stillness

a bit of clarity and reflection on the loch's surface

just a moment long

the few seconds before the rain begins

(untitled)

... not really in the habit of doing that, but let's try.

I'm off for the weekend. A long overdue one with plenty of coffee with M. One of the other Ms said: what is it you want to do before you're off? I had been to the sea, I wanted a gig at Barrowlands - unfortunately missed Camera Obscura last night (sorry! M - did not manage to track a ticket down), and I wanted Loch Rannoch, the Moors and Schihallion. That's for this weekend now. With a forecast of continuous rain. So it'll be M in the car with coffee and cigarette while I do my best tourist impression of running around through the rain and the wind, with a bit of paper and a watersoluble graphite.

The last time I saw Schihallion in the distance, it was at K's birthday party in Glen Coe - a long time ago. But she and I talked about it on Wednesday. So many good things...

I did a sketch at that weekend. It's three years old and in the first sketchbook. I think this weekend's sketches will look rather different. Interesting.

Rannoch Moor towards Schihallion, graphite in Moleskine

Three in one...

... after the previous post ended up speechless, let me try again.

I am clearing my office.

30kgs of photocopied articles no longer needed.
The way of walking and
Love and loss

 

 

Then I went and had my first drink with J, five and a half years overdue as I am leaving. We share the same job title as of soon: he in retirement, me with a beating heart. All the while, the city was dark, it rained on us as we sat covered, shared some tobacco and the ever urgent need for a word that starts with r... the second time today, this came up. Leaving: so many possibilities...

Yes: the scent of the city still gets me. Definitely itchy - my previous threesome was a lie :)

Speechless

... just for a wee while...

For Lea Rosen

... für wen sonst?

Who then knows what we will become? That we are is a rumour that we believe as soon as we remember: once I was a child.
But soon the next thing comes, it is too large and runs through us like autumn wind in empty alleyways.
Rilke

Für Lea Rosen

... who else?

Wer weiß denn was wir werden? Daß wir sind, ist ein Gerücht an das wir wieder glauben sooft wir fühlen: ich war einmal ein Kind.
Doch schon das Nächste kommt zu groß und rinnt durch uns wie Wind im Herbst durch leere Lauben.
RM R