2024-04-12 oh, the light!
long shadows hold hands over rolling hills dotted with grubby cotton balls frolicking, or grazing, or something too subtle to notice from here halfway up a tree, wooden planks balance in the shape of a hut, or a house, or a hideout. in plain sight for a split second flooding banks spill over, blanketing roundly the earth drops away and rises again we are flying and then not and then clinging to the edge of the world north sea laps at the window not quite golden hour, but almosthome