Finally, a phrase that describes this summer. I watch the flow of light course and change on Sinead's face. Night falls. We have been talking about new ecology, methodologies, the intellectual process.
Working and re-working our writing, until it feels just right. Reads both sound and beautifully.
Again I watch the light flicker and change and remove itself from the real. Become night, night becoming day, sentences becoming paragraphs, paragraphs becoming a dissertation.
Lived thought. Swift-flowing river, regardless of day or night.