My daughters are in the bath. I listen to them counting, splashing, giggling, fighting over plastic toys. Today, I've redrafted pages of my book, picked up toys, dipped chips in ketchup and looked in Thesaurus to find synonyms for 'orange', I found words such as apricot and flame. I've read articles about strikes and talked about petrol shortage with friends and passersby. I've watched videos of almost riots and wondered at the French capacity to say 'No'. I've heard about cuts in the UK, about losing jobs and I've made cheese and marmite on toast. I've carried a trombone and comforted a tired man and listened to tales of survival. I've been tired, chirpy, giddy, silly, inspired and now I'm at the end of my day. I can hear my daughters talking about farts and tickling in the bath. That is the end of my day.
2 comments:
it's lovely how you equalize the value of our various actions in a day--we dip chips in ketchup and redraft pages--just part of the day
I really feel this, that our days - if we listen to their sounds and smells - are made up of many species of experiences. There is a Darwinian complexity to the connections between Barbie dresses, lentil soup and reading Murakami novels.
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