Heading North last Friday with the new day and month, home for Mothering Sunday.
An insanely early train out of necessity. Awaking before 4.oo a.m, then out into that strange, non-world of the deadest hours of the night.
The 73 bus, however, full of people. The drunken at the dregs of their previous day, the semi-comatose beginning their new one. Strangely, as I was abed by 10pm I am fairly chipper.
On the train. Nicely quiet. Cracking a new Moleskin sketchbook (the 2nd of a pack of three gifted to me at Christmas last by my dear friend Karen of Williamsburg, Massachusetts), I set down the line skeleton's of future ideas. . .
For your viewing pleasure I now post a selection.
I thank you.
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