Today’s exercise, pulled from the salt-pig’s mouth is: Clocks/Timekeeping – something I’m not particularly good at, but here goes:
Clocking
It is current and will fizzle complacently like Sauerkraut on a windowsill, but return, always return, there is really nothing for it. Seasonally speaking it’s an idiom of flaccid syllables but enough loved to hang around, spillage of habits from the nunnery, coincidental as all. Tethers of emancipation tighten to the cushion, the plump chair beckons idly but there is light now even in darkness there is no recourse. Measure of measuring for the pleasure of measurement, and the parsnips remain unbuttered.
I tried to zoom in and see the book spines.
You took that masthead photo? Fantastic. I love light + shadows.
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I did, it’s the turbine hall at Tate Modern, I was there for the Miro retrospective some years ago now. I remember thinking I have to try and capture this atmosphere. Glad you like it.
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I like how the turbine hall still has the scar on the floor from the first exhibition.
Sx
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Me too, I’m very fond of scars. X
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