Monday, December 11

• Looking down, the red pepper I just sliced open suddenly looks like a sculpted tulip. 

• a symphony of greens as I come through the alleyway. The deep glossy green of the ivy climbing the red wall. Across the street, the cool silver green of the cuctus, overlapping the pale yellow-green of the spider plant, against the backdrop of a dark, warm green bush. 

• The purposful predatory prowl of the rooks across the grass, contrasting with the aimless fluttering of the pidgeons.

Suddenly, the whole dried brown bush is fluttering as a flock of sparrows alights, tlands again and disappears into camouflage and silence. 

The complex  gradations of spaces between the cluster of leaves on the fig tree, each at a slightly different level than the other, each turning in a different direction.