We don’t get to pick the colours…

they lay them out themselves. Maybe it’s the same with words. I don’t believe many of the books I love grew out of a deadline, they were written for other desperate – if holy – reasons. I’ve started writing something new. And the words will fall into place and strike something true for people or they won’t, but I’ll keep tapping it. This was the light climbing out of Boggle Hole.

sky