Shifting sands move under our feet as we find ourselves back on the beach. The scene sharpens and we talk through the landscape of a gathering evening.
We flew home into the blue of beyond two weeks ago. In a few days we will catch a plane to the tomorrow of a southern French sun.
There’s a Bob Dylan song that‘s been rolling along the tracks of my mind for some time. Even now, as I’m walking on a slowly sunny Los Angeles afternoon with the hound, I can hear it.
I found myself on an eye wateringly early flight home to Los Angeles this morning after a wonderful few days in Mexico City.
I’m always on the look out for resonances which return me to the truth of the dream-like nature of our experience. It’s why I love Inception, Christopher Nolan’s exquisite creation from 2010.
It began with Keats. Walking through the enchanted world of Ode to a Nightingale I left the beaten track, mesmerized by a summons from the favorite American writer of my youth.
It’s a bright and sun scorched morning as Duke and I step out on our usual outing through the neighbourhood.
The past few weeks have been marked by resonances. Voices from poetry, history or theatre have figured so strongly that they are escaping from my mind, ready to leap onto the written page.
The hound and I have been out and about this week. Temperatures soared once more. At times the light had a flat brightness that could cut glass.
I’m out and about with the hound in the bright crispness of an almost December morning. After a week or so where the temperatures suddenly decided to play at summer heat, the seasonal chill in the air is welcome.
