Saturday, August 29, 2009
The Arse End of August/the beginning of Spring
At this time in Hydra the wind starts up, blowing off the ocean and into your brain, stirring up the residue of lust and desire that has been kicking back under the duvets and hibernal carbo loading.
What is it you want and what is it you need? Suddenly these twitchy imponderables press.
Magnolia trees bloom a sullen purple above the tangle of damp gardens, while in the background the sky runs through the spectrum of neutral grays.
In the deep of night a neighbour, recipient of tough love is locked out and batters the french doors as ineffectually as a moth drunk on moonbeams. It's cold out there.