Telling a story

I have been drawing in the hills - returning to a favourite perch. Today I took my flask of coffee and the dog, my head still in its own fog - my reactions in slow motion.

I apologise to the minibus driver who must have thought I was ignorant - not ignorant just slow of brain.

I have been trying to capture the mood of the hills which strangely mirror my internal life.

A large queen bumble bee climbs into my drawing tin - she is dark with the drawing in of the year
I am such a foolish man
I want to cry - repent - be washed

Sheep bleat
A recorded voice drifts up from Dan - yr - Ogof

Ravens meet overhead
Waters meet underground

Underground is where I wish to be
To hide my bones

But today the sun lifts the hills into a reverie

Paul