It’s been a while. I’ve been coming through things, and still am, but here I am, writing again.
In the café at Wrexham General station, the kind barista is putting up the Christmas tree while I drink my morning coffee. I choose to take it as a sign of hope.
It may snow before November is out. I will love again the way snow falls through the street light outside my living room window.
And I’m listening to Haydn’s first cello concerto on ear-pods. It drowns out the hiss of the coffee machine. Moderato - cheerful, adagio - poignant, then upbeat allegro to the resolution. Three movements. Three moods. Nothing authentic can be expressed in a singularity.
I move through things by sitting still, writing, going with the music.
