whiteparish pond by katharine eastman

Even though I'm going to lots of places and all that stuff I hate digging around for my camera and taking photos so I almost never do and that is why my covers are all the same - sky, tree, field, the end. It's agony to step out of this fantastic dream and have to grapple with any kind of tech - I don't even own a watch - and I wouldn't have a camera if not for this. Spring has her foot to the floor and is catching up fast and she looks so beautiful. Yesterday high on the ridge from Pepperbox Hill I caught up with a woman who was wearing the right gear and wearing too many clothes and she was cluttered up with the modern noose-technology round her neck and the modern chains-technology round her wrist and the weight of the world upon her back and we chatted a tiny bit and would've or could've gone on together but even though she was (is) about half my age, there was just too much of her and on her and I couldn't wait - I had to go on - just in charity shop running shoes (though I have never run anywhere) and socks and thin trousers and t-shirt and baseball-cap and that is all - I watched her fall sooo far behind sooo quickly it made me sad, her life almost over already, willingly a slave

yesterday both