Friday 24 April 2015
..from the next room the sound of the clock's constant counting, both taunting and reassuring in it's always. the window frames the image of the spire armoured in geometric patterns like scales pointing to the sky split into cardinal points. a sky the opposite of yesterday's vibrance. contemplative in it's lack of colour and befitting of the mood. bare feet firm on the ground three flights up as embers are stoked and intentions in silence are set...
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a small eternity of silence, seven years or more, an immaterial frame standing still, waiting, while elsewhere everything grows in a wild wilderness and crooked paths wind impossibly, leading footsteps and thoughts to new patterns, covering far distances in only seven blinks of the eye.
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