And then there were two.

When.....?

If you are drunk when you write, should you be drunk when you re-read and then rewrite?

Or will everything just seem good, no matter?

There’s a place in Spain, bathed in sunlight and textured with sand……

October…

I can feel it.

The sea is gently rolling onto the shore.

The sky is blue, of course and there’s a railway that runs along the coast –someone wrote that you can feel that an octopus will land on your lap; you are that close.

Concrete – you hate this stuff – there is a lot of it there, but it doesn’t matter.

There’s warmth – from the sun, the smiles of the folk you meet and even the policeman that helps you start your car when the battery is flat.

There’s a young woman; she works in the guest-house and owns a tortoise.

The tortoise has no name.

I started this with a question, here’s another – what would you call the tortoise?

Gonzalez seems like a good choice.

formerly published in The Archives.