25.8.08: A place to hide. Often found through a casual chat with friends. Hidden Treasure. A tip-off, a forgotten space where nobody else goes. You can share with your past memories, a conjuring taste for adventure, a distance of forgiveness that feels within touching distance, but you will never eclipse the stretch. I woke at 6am each day to sit and watch the sun glide through the tree-tops until she stood announced, bright. The damp morning dew under my bare feet made me feel alive, no noise other than birdsong. It was then I thought for one moment of traffic, the march to labour, the conflicts of office politics, but yesterday is yesterday like a passing breeze gone. I sit here, watch the bees and then cook breakfast on an open fire.

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