h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I don't think this is like a primary school project. It's beautiful. I'm looking forward to seeing the photos.

I remember coming across a display of Dale Chihuly's art in the V&A and being transfixed by it.

And once again, thankyou.

I think it is because I am taking things back to the beginning right now, trying to return to a simple delight, the spiritual essence of creativity, that my glass writings here reminded me of a school project.

It makes me happy though, that perhaps they might not sound like that. heheh.

Obviously writing in this style, not so cryptic as my usual output, it feels a bit like a toothless, yet hopeful smile ,and I am not yet used to it ....

I remember doing a school project on Heinz. I wrote things like , ...

...then stuck in a label (with GripFix) from a Heinz baked beans can, because I saw that label in its glorious isness.

Then I got onto tomato soup ... ah paradiso!



Oh heavens protect me, I have the vapours! ...

...I just checked Dale Chihuly's work on Google images. Now I am completely in love. You saw an exhibition in the V&A?? wow. I think I am going to get a book ......

Thankyou thankyou for inspirations ....

It's good to go back and try to recapture the beauty of simple things. I remember that, when my son was a baby, I could put him in his chair close to the washing machine and he would happily watch it churning away.

I still have a fascination with moving water. My idea of heaven would be to have my own private waterfall. Parhaps light through water...

Aww yes! And that's how it is in childhood isn't it, the simple things are mysterious, enchanting.

And, seems to me, there's no reason why we should have to lose it.. the essence of that strange enchantment. Its not always like childhood, its something other, but I experience it as a sort of magnetic pull, a return to source.

My Dad was a farmer. I remember hot summer afternoons in the garden, the sound of the baler in the field, da doom da doom, da doom da doom, on an on, as it spat out the bales. I didn't know what it was, I must have been about six or something. That was a kind of a haunting heartbeat sound.



I am getting a lot of this right now, the small details returning.

My Mum died this January, a year less six days since Dad died. I was with her for the last two weeks of her life, and I was walking around experiencing so many details, memories, as if through a strange lens ...

I did a lot of writing.

I was with Dad too for the last few days of his life.

The experience has changed me, deepened me. That borderline of life and death, that one essential mystery.

Ah, light through water, moving water.... waterfalls, fountains ...

Uh oh, don't start me .. .... prose poetry alert! ....