Red light changes to yellow, I cross the road, the green of leaves on the Lime, Acacia, Cherry, and the Planes, grounded, lined up down Avenue Road, a branch falls, a growling vehicle rushes by, Branches Break, in iTunes, on the AirPods, as I turn into Elsworthy Road. Jude asleep, James in Formosa Street, probably awake, Liam getting ready for his flight from Kerry to London, and here in King Henry's Road a cup of coffee, a glass of water, their music, the ambience of a hotel.
This articulated practise of everyday life, framed, these words, this good habit. To inhabit, a habit, to dwell in this moment, of time, no time, no space, this place, everything has its place, this iPhone, the cup, a saucer, the water in the glass, my finger typing this, tapping away at letters, this magic, this code, to unravel, each moment a journey, an enchantment.
Books. I will try Blurb, again. Straight from this iPhone, a month, August 2018, 20 photographs, a simple and useful title for each photograph, and the photo number. This little book, 30x30 centimetres, will be a reference book, all my books are 'reference' books. Easy to carry about, to re-look. More stuff to digest. Life is about digestion and decay and de light .. and riffing, and sparkling, words to say, things to play.
Books. Photographing. So many images come to mind. Stuff at hand, a picture, a frame, a meal, a chair, some material, an ingredient for a recipe, an element for a hifi, a tool to use, to help make something with. Found things, a special photograph from long ago, things found, and then photographed, those records, an Album from the early Seventies, a book from the Sixties, a wood burning stove for this winter, the wood pruned from a fruit tree, the grain, those grains, the sky, these clouds, that light of sun, red, yellow. A little book, twenty photographs, little things, life, all done with an iPhone. Fun, delight.
Back to putting together Apple books for me today. I might do a Blurb book as an experiment, just August 2018.