James Randall
@randalljamesp.bsky.social
between the forest and the city / editor, writer - for adults & children, incl. folktales & non-fiction (26/27) - Hachette: https://shorturl.at/xJBrT, HarperCollins. PhD, Goldsmiths (2018).
More stunning poetry by Chilean Enrique Gómez Correa. Alice in Wonderland When the tree gives free rein to its desires When the tree sees with its eyes wide open and recovers its sense of smell And notices us we who identify with the lake's weariness.
Etiyé Dimma Poulsen (b. 1968, Ethiopia) is a self-taught ceramic artist based in Antwerp, Belgium. After moving from Ethiopia to Denmark as a child, she studied art history before discovering ceramics—a medium that transformed her practice. Further descriptions in the alt text 👇
Early stroll. The sky has taken delivery of a moon. Orange letters and numbers painted on the pavement. I cross the road earlier than I usually do. Two triangles of bread in the bus shelter. Maybe one day that metal butterfly attached to that wall will fly away.
#Bloomscrolling #ColourADay #BlueTue Balloon Flower (Platycodon grandiflorus) in the morning after the night's rain.
We walk the early lanes out of the village, as open to wonder as any child on its school holidays. We check beneath our feet for any bird-footed footprints made by half-transformed witches, scour hedges for snagged Woodwose or Harrowhound fur. Lore as a lens for marvels. – #DAKilroy, 1982
…but what if one morning you find a kingfisher so high on the hill and so far from a stretch of water? What lost river was it searching for? What was its desire or disorientation? An unexpected flame in the undergrowth.
The mind moves like a bird light, restless, beautiful and in its movement, the world is shaped. Laura Makabresku
My daughter has just sent me this lovely photo where you get an even better view of the puffin.
“…it only takes a single, solitary summer night next to a woodland pond for the world to feel magical once again.” — Torbjørn Ekelund, A Year in the Woods: 12 Small Journeys into Nature
The best light isn’t always at sunrise. Sometimes it’s the hour after the world has gone to sleep. Esalen, California.
Beauty has no other origin than a wound, unique, different for each person, hidden or visible, that everyone keeps in himself, that he preserves and to which he withdraws when he wants to leave the world for a temporary but profound solitude. Genet, Fragments of the Artwork
& a tiny lammas fire (we involved every precaution) & then the moon
