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August 5th 2009

    The barn is a happy chaos of dust and often useful things.  Then one morning it becomes purgatory.  Necessary to don wings and commence the reestablishment of order.  As an angel I enter that space.  My mind seized by good purpose.

   There is encouragement from others.  The hoped for perfect place that barns can be.  Calligraphy rather than the scrawling penmanship of putting off until tomorrow.  

 

    There will be achievement.  Parts will close in on perfection.  Then a moment will come when I can return those wings to their cupboard and then I will nod contentedly, just as I did last year.

    Others might recognize an analogy, but I cannot afford to, because at the moment it is humid and hot and I am wearing wings.

tim candler

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(Hogarth