enough light to begin
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Again, the endless northern rain between us
like a veil. Tonight, I know exactly where you are,
which row, which seat. I stand at my back door.
The light pollution blindfolds every star.
I hold my hand out to the rain, simply to feel it, wet
and literal. It spills and tumbles in my palm,
a broken rosary. Devotion to you lets me see
the concert hall, lit up, the other side of town,
then see you leave there, one of hundreds in the dark,
your black umbrella raised. If rain were words, could talk,
somehow, against your skin, I’d say look up, let it utter
on your face. Now hear my love for you. Now walk.
Cate Blanchett attends the EE British Academy Film Awards at The Royal Opera House on February 14, 2016 in London, England.
The bee collects honey from flowers in such a way as to do the least destruction to them, and he leaves them whole, just as he found them.
Botanical garden, Edinburgh
April, 2015.
To describe what it’s like to see dancers perform up close is difficult, particularly those of the Royal Ballet. It’s like being entranced; mesmerized by motion and story; being in the moment and letting it wash over you in awe. I was lucky enough to see the dancers of Wayne McGregor’s new piece “Woolf Works” (inspired by the works of Virginia Woolf) rehearse last night. It was a room that burst of movement and abstract shapes, full of strength and unity and emotion. Just amazing.
If we’re genetically identical, do you get that little patch of dry skin between your eyebrows?
