This week has been busy, in quite an involved way. I’ve sorted out my upcoming regular schedule, finalised the layouts for a photography collection (to be released for July), and watched Good Omens (it was delightful, I am delighted).
Find following: an untitled poem remarking on the herding behaviour of the waiting, a chance photo from a library, and a question of perspective.
Who knows each other
On the other side of the room, and onlooker to the tableau
And their migratory participants
Hugs and kisses exchanged
(these friends have not been lost long)
Even the occasional strangers come in pairs
Clumped up together as they pass on through
How deep can the outsider perspective go?
When are they folded into the ‘inside’?