Wednesday, 30 January 2008

Down the road, late afternoon.

A lazily whorling vortex of gulls is sharply, prettily white against the lively green of the pasture in the evening light.

The harsh, anaerobic odour of slurry tells me why.

1 comment:

Dave said...

This is a great post to begin on! It already tells me that yours isn't going to be the selective vision of a writer out for quaintly picturesque, pastoral vignettes. It occurs to me that your location in Brittany and situation as an expatriate might actually help by making you hyper-aware of potential cliches in writing and thinking.