Another 40 minutes of afternoon sun - maybe the last for a while - trying to make that red-brick glow. Still some work to do on the shadows.
Stopped to walk and talk along the river with a writing friend: how we struggle with our truths - how we've read more during lockdown - including the late William Trevor whose last stories are threaded with life's unspoken and uncertain strands - "the past is too far off, its laughter does not echo, its flimsy shadows fall away."
Stopped to walk and talk along the river with a writing friend: how we struggle with our truths - how we've read more during lockdown - including the late William Trevor whose last stories are threaded with life's unspoken and uncertain strands - "the past is too far off, its laughter does not echo, its flimsy shadows fall away."