In a fleeting moment of summer sun, Bob the cat basks in knowledge that all things sound… all things move…. with reason, purpose and if lucky, taste.
While others, now more present in death than life are carried as beacons to new years and fears and midnight burnings.
More curious than a solitary light our actions, be they subconscious or plain silly both defend and deflect. In this so called Irish summer I have vacillated rapidly between the two d’s.Then came upon stones and another skull in the county of Tyrone and the wonderment of water and rhythm and the beat of air.
Reflections, reactions and just plain making it up as I pick random photos from an untitled file.
This is all I have to say. Barely a coherent sentence, making sense to none but me. Still, there’s me to make sense of cohesion.
And the beauty of a late night party ties us all up in floppy fluffy knots……
Thanks for clicking in.