Under This BridgeThe world is browningWhere once it was blue and greenSoon it will be time for sacrificesTo recall the sun to the earthBut the memory of its warmthLingers stillAnd yes, it was under this bridge I satSun to my face, Circle a to my backAnd smoked in another lifeReading the signs in the groundKnowing I was not the firstAnd sure I would not be the lastIs that not where happiness aims?Is that not faith?Not to be the first or lastNo glory or tragedyBut quiet persistenceCyclic law, and the mystery of the word
I have also been working on a variety of images. One that I've finally got finished (it feels like a weight lifted from round my neck), is this one, an image from the first walk:
The process of touching up the outlines and individually colouring each leaf has taken an astonishing amount of time; I would guess maybe 12-14 hours. I won't be trying anything like this again if I want to actually finish this book.