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A quiet, muggy-minded awakening this morning. It's 07:07. I've walked with the clouds, appreciated a glass of water, enjoyed a coffee and feel a little less muggy. It's not all in the mind, unless one thinks of the 'mind' as embodied. My writings shifts from the textured paper of my notepad, the flow of ink from my pen and the movement of lines across a page making an appearance as letters and words, forming, shaping a manifestation of feelings and thoughts from my latent landscape of consciousness. These iPhone words, un-written, letters, digits on a keyboard, re-form my thought-feelings in an imperceptibly different way. Typing, not quite writing. Driving, not quite cycling, or walking, the world whistles by, rather than you whistling in the world. I think of place. These places for things, the places we inhabit, and the places of being. Tentative, uncertain thoughts and feelings entangled, not really a 'project' more like a conscious shift of perception, unplanned, an exploration, an experiment, an adventure in this landscape of mine. This landscape of mind. Remembering places, stirring senses. And the music, from long ago, driving to Woburn, I don't remember, Donovan, I don't remember, the photograph becomes the manifestation of a dream, a glimpse of something, someone, a sense of place, a feeling, a sigh, a cloud, the sky.

I reach for my pen, an adventure, drawing words, to wander across the page, to muddy my mind.

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