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This Earth, a land, a garden, covered, paved, humanised. Movement. The paving I walk on this morning. Remembering. A trodden path across a park, hardened, baked by the sun, dark, roots buried, some rain, deeply buried roots, awoken, nourished, some light of day, green shoots begin to appear again, this grass.
Moment. I collect Plane bark with Jude for our garden path, a short walk to our compost, a heap, the slow silence of decay, this earth being digested, paths, journeys, trails, traces. Ramble. Bugs wander about digesting our food, my digestion, our decay. To become the compost for composing another day. In a slightly different way. Bacteria. This thinking, a way of thinking, a landscape of consciousness, a common land, a front garden, a window box, a bug, a cell, an atom, air, water, Earth, planets, stars, solar system. Being. Everything coexisting, this reliance. Everything part of the same thing, this forever. This how of thinking, each morning, early, out of dreams, before the day becomes about the whats of everyday life. This dancing with the decay.

Today, photographs, on a digital screen, arranging, slowly, a page, eventually a book, an artefact, an artifice, something made, to hold, so much more than it appears to be. Digesting. Thinking. Presence.  Then is now is then. A journey, munching, mulching, muddy, sloppy, silent, slow, shaping, forming, framing, finding, opening, out, in, to, light, a, day, away.

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