Friday, July 25, 2008
FROM MORNING DRIVE JOURNAL
JULY 26, 2002
A thickness of fog, sun trying to burn through, numinous, luminous behind haze.
I am expecting delivery of a newly-published book of mine today, so I shall have to come home to receive it. Need to be in the place where the books arrive when they arrive - what a pleasant chore.
As I step outside to the car, I have to say: I think the sun is winning its tug of wear. Light shows through, the humidity heating to steam.
Out in the country, almost another world - the plains of Africa, perhaps. Groves disappear into the distant greyness. You can imagine predator and prey, life and death and the Great Wheel turning.
JULY 26, 2002
A thickness of fog, sun trying to burn through, numinous, luminous behind haze.
I am expecting delivery of a newly-published book of mine today, so I shall have to come home to receive it. Need to be in the place where the books arrive when they arrive - what a pleasant chore.
As I step outside to the car, I have to say: I think the sun is winning its tug of wear. Light shows through, the humidity heating to steam.
Out in the country, almost another world - the plains of Africa, perhaps. Groves disappear into the distant greyness. You can imagine predator and prey, life and death and the Great Wheel turning.
