watercolour and ink on paper
Stranger
Momentarily I struggled to remember if it was an actual event, or a dream, for my dreams have been vivid lately, or a story I had read or heard. Perhaps because it was so bizarre, but perhaps the way people behave is not what it used to be before the crisis. It was like the time of plague, all those many years ago, when everything was strange, normal was strange until it was not and no one could remember what it was like, except for the few strange people. They always remained strange.
Weather, wind and a certain lighting and instead of cycling home in London it feels like I am cycling home in the Cape of Storms. Cycling to the home I had all those years ago. The smells, the light and I am convinced I am back there, then. But truth be told it is very difficult to know how it felt to be me in long ago years
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Creatives
It would be interesting, as suggested, to make a comic out of a poem. A bit like...
