poem
This was a twisty trip. Thank you for sharing. Love, Virg
‘My dad took us fishing every Thursday
to have for Friday supper.
But there were never enough rods
and I was the youngest,
so I built castles on the river bank.
I hate fish.’
My favourite part. The build up, then swiftly destroyed.
Thank you. I enjoyed distilling that memory. Which may seem a bit perverse, yet childhood recollections are a weird residue of misery and merriment wrapped in the same moment.
The image of the soil growing the roses stayed with me. Everything begins there, and yet nobody ever brings the soil into the house.
At least not intentionally! The soil enters and is removed.
Thank you 🙏
This was a twisty trip. Thank you for sharing. Love, Virg
‘My dad took us fishing every Thursday
to have for Friday supper.
But there were never enough rods
and I was the youngest,
so I built castles on the river bank.
I hate fish.’
My favourite part. The build up, then swiftly destroyed.
Thank you. I enjoyed distilling that memory. Which may seem a bit perverse, yet childhood recollections are a weird residue of misery and merriment wrapped in the same moment.
The image of the soil growing the roses stayed with me. Everything begins there, and yet nobody ever brings the soil into the house.
At least not intentionally! The soil enters and is removed.
Thank you 🙏