So apparently, May started a week ago. I would love to say that I remember how beautiful the golden hour of the very fist day of the month; but the truth is I don’t.
Last night, I might not have been there when the flap clock on my wall roared and clicked – just like the train-station departures board of my grand-mother’s village – but I could feel that April was around the corner.
I don’t really know where to start about my – our – recent getaway to Cornwall. I have seen landscapes so beautiful my eyes hurt. I have eaten food so delicious my taste-buds remember.
[Six o'clock in the morning]
This morning, too early for people to be awake and too late for party-bunnies to be asleep, the pavement seemed covered in snow.
Glitters, cigarette ends and confetti that would shine to the subtle glow offered by lamp poles.