The Sometimes Newsletter

A lot of my thoughts seem to be contained within bird-shaped parentheses, and this week was no different. Sunday afternoon, walking through the quietening town to a ten year old’s birthday party, we crossed paths with another pair of people we’re acquainted with at the corner of stone houses.

A lot of my thoughts seem to be contained within bird-shaped parentheses, and this week was no different. Sunday afternoon, walking through the quietening town to a ten year old’s birthday party, we crossed paths with another pair of people we’re acquainted with at the corner of stone houses.

July ending, a list: There was a line of large, transparent jellyfish on the grey beach at Ayr this past Wednesday—a tidemark of lives, but I wasn’t sure if those lives were over or not because it’s very hard to tell with jellyfish I will frequently go to hang out laundry in the garden, which is shared, sort of, with others.

July ending, a list: There was a line of large, transparent jellyfish on the grey beach at Ayr this past Wednesday—a tidemark of lives, but I wasn’t sure if those lives were over or not because it’s very hard to tell with jellyfish I will frequently go to hang out laundry in the garden, which is shared, sort of, with others.

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Note:While small extracts of this writing have appeared in previous newsletters it has not been published before in its entirety We will travel 1,004 miles in less than three hours, and I’m certain I forgot to pack my heart, again. This arid country, so unforgiving in its perspiration and glare; how something can look so astonishing in one light, so sickening in another. I watch as only the shadows of birds move across the hot concrete, in straight lines and towards that which only they can know.

Two nights ago, during a finally break in the grey and rain, we made a small fire in our piece of garden, inside the dry stone fire-wall-pit-gravel-thing we undertook not long after moving to this town, in a fit of likely madness which involved manually digging a large, deep, impossible circle of soil out of the sloped grass area, and then heaving a selection of wildly heavy and irregular-shaped stones here, there, and everywhere to form a semi-ish-circle of low wall, nice to sit on if you...

Two nights ago, during a finally break in the grey and rain, we made a small fire in our piece of garden, inside the dry stone fire-wall-pit-gravel-thing we undertook not long after moving to this town, in a fit of likely madness which involved manually digging a large, deep, impossible circle of soil out of the sloped grass area, and then heaving a selection of wildly heavy and irregular-shaped stones here, there, and everywhere to form a semi-ish-circle of low wall, nice to sit on if you...

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The smooth, thin layer of glass covering his body refracts the last of the electric light, and she can no longer bring herself to look. It rains persistently, loud and for long enough that it drowns out the sound of their thoughts—both of their heads then turn to watch dust particles and all of the feelings they haven't voiced yet being pulled down the …