I woke up again in the early hours. Hours of daybreak grey. Immutable shadows. Projects and paintings were forming themselves in my mind – subtle, eclectic, sensible, exciting. Almost impossible to reproduce.
Beneath them I could sense this wide well, which may open out and become vast and full of terminal disease.
I slept again and re-awoke to the birds’ chatter and the neighbour’s mad-hatter natter and looked forward to a new day.
© Duncan Hopkins 11.12.2010
