Some humidity leached out the air in the night. Barnes is cool again, under the willows by Beverley Brook & in the little narrow tracks between bramble & waist-high nettles. Then as you emerge from there you feel the London summer thicken on your skin. The heath light could pass itself off as early morning, but you’re soon looking forward to the next shade. Right shoe a little loose. Today for some reason you don’t care. Feeling that bit of heat in your heel is just another way of being in your body. Scuttle across Mill Hill Road in front of the commuter traffic & you’re in the woods.
Reading: Western Grit, Chris Craggs & Alan James. Reviewing: The Shieling, short stories by David Constantine. Looking forward to: a few days–& a few more easy trad solos–in the Peak District from Thursday. Also looking forward to: reading Brian Evenson’s collection, Fugue State. (Interview with him at Bookslut.)