Thunderstorms break the sunshine. Smokers in polo shirts and sandals huddle under the eaves of pubs on Main Street. After my first printmaking workshop ever, I return crimson-streaked, as if from a battlefield, and head out again to feast on bbq chicken wings and curry cheese chips (fries in Americanese). I am absolutely delighted. Outside my bedroom window, house martins dart in a shower's gloom.




<<