Fires raging, turning the skies into apocalypse ‘Turner’ sort of sunsets.
The first of the photo-books of paintings (Afghanistan) that are still available for sale has been printed. The quality better than expected and certainly something to be completed for the other countries and painting collections.
For now, my life is controlled by the arc of a pendulum encased in the Viennese Regulator that has decided to no longer keep its regular beat. Sometimes it stops after a few minutes. Sometimes it will even chime through a couple of hours. Mostly, it seems to be throwing a tantrum. Nothing has changed in where it hangs above the staircase. Admittedly, being away a fair amount over the past month has meant that it hasn’t been wound regularly.
Didn’t manage to negotiate the soft sand on the contours through the forest. Couldn’t even blame my broken glasses on my ending in a heap after the bicycle decided my bike handling, and riding strength were totally embarrassing. The soft sand ensuring it wasn’t a bone, or skin flaying sort of fall. Ego a tad bruised after trailing in the climbs and then being dumped on the trails through the forest. Which, were beautiful in the early mist.
Summer picnic. Pink nose. The waters of the Knysna river taking the heat out of the day. Friends, chilled wine, alfresco food and laughter, embraced by ancient Yellow Wood trees. The assistance of the lift for all the cooler boxes down to the riverside site that touch of decadence.