On most days I walk once around the park and write 30 words about it.
Sunday, 12 July 2009
Mount Ephraim, anticlockwise. 5pm.
The sun shines through ripe grass that sways in drifts on the bank above us. The stems are so beautiful, slender and blonde that I hardly dare write about it.
That last sentiment is so true. Sometimes the moment feels diluted once it reaches the page. But not writing about it at all risks it disappearing forever.
1 comment:
That last sentiment is so true. Sometimes the moment feels diluted once it reaches the page. But not writing about it at all risks it disappearing forever.
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