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On the train from West Hampstead to Richmond. Pick up a sandwich and bottle of water from Pret, cycle up Richmond Hill, past the Roebuck and on to Richmond Gate, then look for the shelter of trees and a place of rest.

Maybe this week of 'play' comes to end and another word may come to mind. Play, like a ball we toss around, kick around, bounce against a wall, until we become a little bored with the pleasure of tossing, throwing, kicking, bouncing the word. What shall we do now? Oh let's make a game. I know, you stand over there, I'll stand here and we'll throw the ball to each other without moving. That was fun. Let's do it further apart. And so we play our way through our days, through life, embodied in play, just a word to play with.

I like your recent pics, being on Instagram, having a presence on Instagram. Being there. Different scenes. What's seen. Each day, something seen, something different, your ways of seeing, in different ways, each day. A thing. A project? A pic project? Fun?

I'm a little late today, same yesterday, up during night a couple of days ago, restless, listened to podcast, had cup of tea, in the light of night, the red planet glowing with the light from a million years, not knowing, just seeing, and presence, and perception, and this being.

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