Friday, 30 June 2017

Purpose



Light starts to shine upon the faces of buildings, but the streets are still in shadow.

The city is not yet awake. I can hear my own footsteps.

This is fascinating.

There are very few people about. The air smells fresh and full of promise.

I am reminded of Pedras d'el Rei, long ago, with my mother and my aunt.

There is string on the ground. All in Portugal know this string. Letters come tied in it, and the postmen just drop it anywhere.

I wonder if it is like this anywhere else...

I marvel at the city which still sleeps.

I used to go to bed at five, or later.

To-day I rose at half six and went for a walk.

Why is there emotion?

Thursday, 25 May 2017

Writing

I started a new book, titled "Seeking Truth in an Age of Hypocrisy" on the day of my previous post here. It is currently 97 pages and 19000 words long. I am extremely impressed with myself - even after the surprise that has been The Empress and General Morgan, on which I have been working for about a year now (it is now 138 pages and 27323 words - I did not think myself capable of a greater rate).

Monday, 8 May 2017

A Great Many Poppies

The poppies are everywhere, and that makes me happy.

I rose early, and I did not mind.

I went far away for cat food, and I did not mind.

I went for groceries and I did not mind.

I found that which was lost, I replaced the lid on the fish tank, I rescued a pelargonium from a tip.

There was an owl on a shelf, with the label "engineer".

My mother was an engineer. She liked owls.

It now sits on my shelf.

The cats are happy.

The poppies wave in the fields.

To-day I did many things, and I did not mind.

Purpose. Purpose is a powerful thing.

Why am I crying?