I had thought over the last few weeks of closing down this blog. Then I came to one conclusion: that I am hibernating.
There is no point in going into any details of the 'stuff' that has been going on. It's very ordinary stuff, that walks through the door and along the corridor, wafts out of air-conditioning, that great office sea song, that brain softens the night.
I have hardly been able to write, and what I have written is cracked and abstract, though it has colours. I'm glad there's some colours. And it has weather.
I would rather read something dumb. I have a lot of dumb things to read. I have lost my judgement and rely on tracks.
This space is a window at the moment.
From my back window I see the birds, from the big black plate glass I see the night, from the front window the slating morning winking off clouds and car metal. And there's always something going on in the neighbourhood. So I hang around. Relying on tracks and old steps.