I had a dream this morning, I was straightening liriselei's robe before he had his portrait taken. He was wearing black, and a long chinese robe of gold brocade, with a pattern of dragons, clouds and bamboo houses in red, pink, gold, white and different shades of green. It had the softness and slight creasing of a second-hand garment, and I felt briefly jealous of L, who has the perfect figure for second-hand clothes.
Cornettos for pudding again. Good gravy! Generational ideas of decadance. Where is my luxury? Answer: in bed.
White light, white skies, white water, white dogs. We go for a walk, risk snow in an abandoned village called Ardmore grown through with Christmas Trees and over with moss. There are trees in all the houses. The path down to Ardmore Point is mossy and secretive. We hop between red-marked poles, rock to stream to broken tree. At the end of the point, I find a rusty post stuck into bare rock, and photograph it for my Mum who collects posts.
In one of the houses I find a slate and scratch a message on it, but I've already forgotten what I wrote. "Message" probably. I remember that I photographed Jerome, stood outside the door of a ruined house, like a ghost messenger in a strange dream.