James

I am in a state of longing.  Spring is such a near thing and yet, this morning, the little pot of ivy I left out is rimmed in frost.  Frost!  I rub salt into my homesick wound by checking the London weather on my computer dashboard: 75 all week.  I squeeze lemon into my emotional paper cut by watching the Kings Road web cam obsessively.  I can see the school children in their woolly jumpers and tidy lines serpentine along the footpath on their way between playing fields and classrooms.  For a moment I am sure I see my own in that line.  Perhaps it’s because my photographs of that time are so blurry?