At his step everything seems to find inside itself a certain form of calm.

Waiting for the sun. Sullivans Cove, May 2010.

One of the The only thing that I miss about my old job is the walk from the bus stop in the morning. Although you can still see the river from New Town, it’s not quite the same as being able to see that morning sun over the water, smell the salt in the air etc etc…

Treat yourself to a poem.

Behind, perhaps, let the sea blow…, Carlos Barbarito

Behind, perhaps, let the sea blow.
Let some word blow
outside every destination of slime, rust.
Perhaps ointments from Avicenna,
forests of embraces,
crops, swarms, humid implications.
Or, perhaps, the same.
It sits up. It gets dressed. It goes.
The grass stands up again.
At his step everything seems to find
inside itself a certain form of calm.
It can't be a great distance
- he thought.