in wrestling with what i really want to be working towards, or how to proceed, i begin every morning with one observable truth: write.
in the vast landscape that surrounds me, i am here in this landscape. on a day that could by any standards be classed as “ordinary”.
but there was magic – in the soft pink light that hugged the horizon as we drove to the ferry this morning and in the way the wind whipped my hair around my face on the journey home again. there was magic in the clouds that painted the sky with feathery strokes and in the perfect pirouette of the ferry as it docked at the wharf.