Notes from Underground

I was standing there this morning as the man was speaking quite clearly of never growing so old again. And walking in gardens wet with rain. And my mind fell into a jungle of tall grass, ivy, lace like shadows and sunlight.

The man said something else about chariots and ferry boats, and I fell again into blonde coloured curls which, as Alice knows, is "curiouser and curiouser"...

And it was a nice cosy rabbit hole, too. Until it became apparent that I had landed not in wonderland, but Jumanji, as I walked back over my shoulder into town. It seemed to convulse in the smoke of tyres and tinder there. I met with the lady who was so miniature - who understood completely that my eyes were weeping, and it wasn't at all my fault.

Then I left, sooner than I thought I would, and drove through the country past painted ponies, pot holes, potting sheds, and too much road khill on death parade.

Zoom back out to look at the forest and not the trees, and thought: I still love how the sun shimmers on the water. I am glad I still have eyes for that. ✨️ And for realising; yes...you can go swimming and not get wet. Sometimes...