the prolonged absence because we moved

the white walls wait expectantly. pale blank walls invite the addition of interest. a tarnished bevelled mirror and wooden frames. twenty three copper leaves. but we're taking our time. the birds and the bells call me to the windows. windows full of sky. sky changeable in it's temperament and colours. I love watching the weather move in, which is out towards the sea. the way the light and clouds sharpen and soften the edges of the buildings on the skyline like a painting.  the way colour disperses. the grey sky thunders and holds it's water for now. there are pieces of our lives still in boxes stacked in little rows. walls within walls that hold the ghosts of the way things used to be. my dad and his amateur architectural investigations and reading of walls, he'll tell you. then the beginning of new rituals at the kitchen table. the vocalisation of a day's thanks. seventy five stone steps to a front door the colour of wine that folds in two. a ramshackle palace of cracks and draughts and space and charm. a place for the creation of new memories. a new home. reminds me of nanci and this...