This untitled piece is by Peter Gallagher
With both arms open wide to the enveloping sense of space, I launch into a journey within my mind to a place beyond the familiar.
The certain knowledge of the past erased and the drawers, full of once useful and long forgotten keepsakes, pulled open and tipped purposefully upside down on the floor of my ivory tower.
The whiteness of the blank paper is blinding . The potential for rebirth is there in front of me , to be grasped and held preciously in both hands . The future is uncertain but the path of the journey is clear
With both arms open wide to the enveloping sense of space, I launch into a journey within my mind to a place beyond the familiar.
The certain knowledge of the past erased and the drawers, full of once useful and long forgotten keepsakes, pulled open and tipped purposefully upside down on the floor of my ivory tower.
The whiteness of the blank paper is blinding . The potential for rebirth is there in front of me , to be grasped and held preciously in both hands . The future is uncertain but the path of the journey is clear
 |
| Early days of Water Story with our dear departed boat woman Morag Anderson |
Thoughts on Silence
by Pat Sutherland
Silence
happens rarely
a singular gift
when traffic ceases
or the sky opens
at the end of a peewit’s cry
amplifies itself
when water laps on stones
and leaves rustle
On a shedding tree.
Silence
spirit-calming
sound of creation
split by our first cry
in a clamorous world
unwelcome only
after angry words
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