Clearing

and of the reached out and the drawn in hast­ily with col­our­ing­book cray­ons; they may not seem about to stay, but their singing provides a glor­i­ous conched sea harmony.

Oh, I have lots and lots of for­get­table noth­ings to share!

You have spin­ach stuck between your teeth.

the paint dries infuri­at­ingly slowly

I read about the tor­ren­tial weather con­di­tions in your coun­try yesterday.

But I would go on and on and you would soon real­ise how ser­i­ously I took your request and you’ll be bored and want me to stop and I’ll sense if and be hurt and the gush­ing will stop embarrassedly.

Sand in my bed

Memor­ies of past fail­ures that end­lessly swirl around blot­ting out the future

The smell of autumn

The far away sound ducks make cross­ing the winter sky

The way cats care­fully eval­u­ate me with their long stares

Read­ing Harry Pot­ter books under the cover

The soft cush­ioned sound after a snowfall

A sil­ver sub­way roar­ing under a grid as I stand above

The vibra­tions of thunder

An Eng­lish accent

A cross-country train ride in a for­eign country

The smell of the sea after a long winter indoors

A turtle let­ting itself fall into a pond

My moms smile

The sound of a horses gallop

A lover’s reas­sur­ing hug

A deep fog which shrouds the famil­iar with magical quality

The kind­ness of strangers

Build­ing snowmen

Gulp­ing down oysters with a good beer and good friends

The busy hum of a bee

Swim­ming in a bright green water­fall after a long hike

chick­ens can swim

But chips can’t.

Often the last thing you think to tell someone, the after­though, under your breath as you slip away is the most important.

sand and cement needs four clear hours of dry weather to set correctly

this is a dilemma for all roofers

i just wrote the words “tell me things that i won’t mind for­get­ting” on my desk top in indelible marker. i haven’t done some­thing like that in a very, very, long time.

thank you.

Miles Away — I have always listened care­fully to sea­shells, yes.

La Fille — Lots of them? Well, for­get­table noth­ings are rather delightful.

Ariel — Is the spin­ach improv­ing my toothy grin?

Andre — Indeed. This site can be rather like watch­ing paint dry. Slowly. And infuriatingly.

The Lamb — It’s flam­ing June. Flamin’ ‘eck.

Clarissa — Bored? Me? Never.

Blue Seaurchin — That’s a long list, but I haven’t for­got­ten any of them yet.

Isa­belle — But can they float if they remain still?

Angelalala — That’s a cruel irony, when the accom­pa­ny­ing fish can. Though not if they’re in batter.

Jem — How very true. Very.

Annie — Read­ing this site is not only like watch­ing paint dry, but watch­ing sand and cement set. Very slowly.

Imo­gen — Gosh. Indelible? Really? I’m hon­oured. Do I get a photo?

per­haps whis­per­ing to a seashell…will let the sea­shell whis­per back.

It was my birth­day when you writ this.

I have never regreted not log­ging into blog­ger more in my life.