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To remember the feeling of what it was like to play, to go out to play. What are you doing? Don't know. Where are you going? Don't know. I'm going out to play. The day opens up to play. Kick a stone, find a ball, pick up a twig. No reason, just to play.

I sit here with my coffee and water. These words like twigs, stones, stuff I've found and gathered, these words, I begin to play.

I play to find my way. To feel my way into the day. This presence, this indistinct form of being, begins to take shape, ephemeral entities transforming into words, a sentence.

In a way we are born into play. Finding our ways of being. Articulating ourselves in a multitude of ways. Fiddling, wobbling, wiggling, wandering, worrying, wondering.

This awakening, into each day, feeling my way, walking, wandering, here, hotel, water, words, like play, like a play, I play. This presence now, this perception of then.

I'll pick up some things from the shops, and begin working on another little book. This one is a Flickr book, from 2006. I'll finish it today. And the next day I'll get up to play; to be born into the day.

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