Sunday, 8 January 2012

Small Stone - Jan 8th

Pinned down by the soft warmth of a dog on my duvet I find I am unable to rise from the comfort. Forced to wallow beside the steaming mug of tea I accept that there are no obstacles to overcome. Having no million things to crowd my day I lie and enjoy the sunlight as it plays my neck, made damp by the soft nuzzling of the Sunday lie-in dog, and I turn another page, eager to find out whodunit.

Small Stone - Jan 7th

Fingers made inelegant by viscous, white sludge become a pungent temptation. An intense saltiness explodes in my mouth as I lick the creamy feta.