This world is white, this world shines brilliantly, everything dosed in a sheen of white, comfy.

the dream – many rooms in a house, take it to be my lavish inner world, so many treasures there. tell the story of the old lady in Blackheath. everything had been left to me, strange doorways and hidden rooms accessed through panels.

writing a poem on the obsession of writing and how for an introvert it can be very hard to get out of that world once it grips you.

the red shoes C>P>E>

the red shoes and computer song – kate bush

walking as obsession/writing as obsession.

the paths through the woods made by snow shoes, the paths we follow and get stuck on cannot veer off.


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