Wednesday 5th December
Silent as a cotton wool stadium, shovelling snow at 6:00am,
missing your light. Finding humour in sculptural forms of
cartoon proportions, building a place for random thoughts to rest
before they congeal into something darker. Swerve that ride down to
the crossroads in the absence of her light, pass the shovel. Manual labour
is a natural panacea for the soul, does the trick until she drives by.