And so it starts, my love all things still, but full of life. A love resurrected from a summer in France with the strong smell of small peaches, the soft white down over pink, orange, red and yellow that make up the delicacy that is a peach.
I haven’t plunged into painting; I hope I am not being lazy and just taking a pause and a think, locating myself and feeling my way around. Graham has had to get straight on with work as his customers cries of help can be heard well across the ocean, and have to be dealt with. I have a blanket over mine so the voices are muted and my head just wont let them be heard.
So, after kissing Graham goodbye at the arch and watching the reflections of the boat pond and then shouting at Molly for eating poo again while I was distracted ( I even tied her up to the most aesthetic bench, I had a moment before dreamlike been looking at, and walked off and sat on another I was so angry) It seems the taste of poo is just irresistible and worth our morning fallouts.
Molly barking at the fountains when they came on as we were looking at them
my pretend jog
With Molly chastised and sentenced to the kitchen in the dark I go off in search of water and milk. The cash point is broken so I end up at a bank near the market and dip in to a cacophony of luscious life and colour and noise and smell. Much cheered I return to Molly laden with a breakfasts of nectarines, peaches, raspberries, strawberries, melon and bananas and salads for lunch of which Molly will have none, but she is still excited to see me and we make friends again.
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