Day 9

A gull alit, a-lightly, on a length of timber as the timbre of its undulating call caused crashing waves of echoed sound to bridge the Avon. It preened at its grey-tinged feathers before pacing the abutment’s edge.

Day 7

Two grids, lain down ‘pon each surface, their calculated squares collecting up, in tessellated time, their timeless, abstract forms.

Day 5

Watching, all the while, th’Egyptian sky, she breaks upward, stands, and steps over and between baskets of fish ‘n grain…

Day 4

“Avast!” the axe-fall blade, abrupt, demanded death-industrial: it called, it falled, found its fortune to be laid upon the wharfway stone.

Day 3

The past: t’was present, as the present: t’was pushed passed. The world: t’was floating ‘midst the passing future.