A writer is working when he’s staring out of the window.
~Burton Rascoe, found at http://www.fontayne.com/ink/quotewrite.html
So what’s outside your writing window?
Outside my window, the grass lies in sunlight, disappearing into a pool of shade beneath the trees. An interloping cat pays a brief visit, inquiring for the absent peacocks. There is no japonica, nor any almond blossoms.
Here is Henry Reed’s poem, for those who miss the japonica:
jorgekafkazar recently posted..Watcher in the Night deciphered
Sounds much like my window… the light, the cat, but instead of grass it’s trees.
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