'our separation is an illusion...'

 'our separation is an illusion,

 you and I cannot be parted...' 

- anna akhmatova, poem  without a hero.

' a joke is not so funny when you are living inside of it.' 

- teffi, memories: from moscow to the black sea. 

interesting. horsemouth has nothing written for today already.

thus we have a written entirely in the morning blogpost.

well that's not entirely true, he had the quotations. (the akhmatova for sure).

yesterday (an overcast day) lots of gardening. for some reason horsemouth was able to get on with the weeding having been resistant to the notion for a while. he cropped the last of the broad beans, some more runner beans and the odd, accidentally dug up, potato. 

he also dug up the only carrot that came up out of all the seed he scattered (sod's law) and very tasty it was too. 

in the afternoon zoom beer with howard. he's off to the south coast a lot at the moment. horsemouth promised to bring down some sweet peas and some eggs when he comes down. 

horsemouth wrote another what will you find in the horsemouthfolk archive?

(forgone conclusions, the dog which nearly hung itself, verses and epigrams (repunctuated),  the tremorithic road, every slightest thing illuminated by interests and obsessions, boredom, frustration and anxiety, a dead seagull.

hail to the runner bean that kindest of crops.)

ten years ago horsemouth was moving out of pop(u)lar in the direction of hackney. he'd taken a ton of his books to the charity shop (well maybe not a literal ton) but was still moving a vast amount of shite. 

today (hopefully) a wander up the hill to deliver some eggs, more reading of the teffi and the akhmatova, further plotting of his escape.