Wednesday September 21st 2011 Tim Candler
Try as I have, I
cannot retreat from the idea of September twenty first as prelude to
Winter Solstice. Probably why my head ached this morning and by
noon I was still fogged from the awesome responsibility of riding the
infinite straight line. It's exhausting, with the ground wet like
this and Spelt Berries still in the plastic bag.
I went all the way to one of the
big towns to fetch the berries, along with supplies for The Artist.
The straight line there and back was over two hundred miles. I'll say it's
time that gives to a line the word infinity. When I got home I
was five hours older. And now it is three days later.