Looking around my home town. Watching the life, trying to see everything. I have a feeling I’m missing so much. So much to see and so many things to do.
In his book The Art of Travel, Alain De Botton tries to explain why we feel restless, and then when we get to the place that will solve all our troubles there is no difference. The essence of course is us ourselves, we are still there, here, carrying it all with us. It is a good book to read by the way, I would recommend it. So one thing he wants people to do is to walk around your local space, and see it with a strangers eyes. I have been trying to do that ever since I read the book.
Sometimes it works, sometimes not.
I’m trying to keep up with my writing, at the moment it is a slow process, there only seems to be so much room for thinking. Work, and the mental capacity I use up crowds out the words. But I am fighting back, I have started meeting with two local writers, to look over and offer proofreading, comments about form, content, and how we feel about their work. I enjoy the feedback, and the way it is freely given, sometimes it’s hard to look at your own writing with sufficient separation.
I’m still taking pictures as you can see and have been featured on the website of our local paper, The Weston Mercury so that is good.
So here I am, looking and re-writing, this is the after.
Old Stone Words
Going back to old words, older than any I have spoken,
old enough to have never been written.
Lines and circles, knowledge stones
marking the landscape that has become
empty of the trees that made it what it was.
Bridges across water, across the ideas of places,
leading to other words left behind,
of such weight we no longer carry them
with us in our pocket as we do now.
Words of such heft we set them in stone.
Thanks to Jim and Melanie for their help. These are the stones Melanie 🙂