by uzwi
Tuesday already has a waxy surface, as if they applied some very modern coating to it at about half past seven this morning. Look across the valley at Workhouse Copse, the wind and the late March sun are a kind of laminar flow around everything, a fixative made of air. It reminds me of some way of landscape painting but I can’t remember whose. I come back from a walk full of ideas but feeling rearranged in some way I can’t make use of. I’ve experienced that feeling a lot recently.
the m john harrison blog 
yesterday I returned from another place and remain covered in that coating of fixative from there. The familiar landscape of here and its air cant wash the stuff off, or crash the stuff off as I first wrote. Ideas rearranged and landscapes unremembered and eating at me despite walks in the familiar. Rearranged.