Splendor – Thomas Centolella

One day it’s the clouds, one day the mountains. One day the latest bloom of roses—the pure monochromes, the dazzling hybrids—inspiration for the cathedral’s round windows. Every now and then there’s the splendor of thought: the singular idea and its brilliant retinue— words, cadence, point of view, little gold arrows flitting between the lines. And…

kingfisher

Kingfisher – Robert Macfarlane

Kingfisher: the colour-giver, fire-bringer, flame-flicker, river’s quiver. Ink-black bill, orange throat, and a quick blue back-gleaming feather-stream. Neat and still it sits on the snag of a stick, until with… Gold-flare, wing-fan, whipcrack the kingfisher – zingfisher, singfisher- Flashes down too fast to follow, quick and quicker carves its hollow In the water, slings its…

Practice

Friends on the train

Sometimes the words flow. Sometimes they do not. They often start at a spluttering and stuttering pace before building up momentum. A sentence can take 10 mins of thinking time but within an hour you realise that you are frantically tapping away at your screen or scrawling 5 sentences a minute as the words tumble…

who-are-you

Who Are You?

I’ve been asking myself that question recently.  Who am I? It’s a complicated thing it seems. Last week I caused myself and others to suffer. Why?  Because I forgot my practice and I forgot who I was.  For a moment, I got caught up in lots of stressful human stuff and it completely took over…