I'm eating breakfast, which perhaps isn't the most sensible accompaniment to the laptop but nevertheless, it's what I'm doing. Along with the news, I'm consuming coffee and some kind of plum-oat-almond creation while I wait for the rest of Saturday to wake up. At the table next to me sits a group of five loud, lycra-clad cyclists, slurping at swimming pools of caffeine, and devouring various forms of protein that I feel probably shouldn't be seen before lunch, talking about routes and food and sleep and wheels and whatever else it is that keeps humanity going. We should probably begin so that I can scroll down the page before they realise I put them in the newsletter.
ON THE JOURNAL THIS WEEK:
A piece of a letter written by Charles Darwin that I find exceedingly comforting, so not much there. I did however remember that I have a tumblr blog, and consequently did some posting on there. Although it sometimes feels like there are far too many to keep track of, I do find the differences between platforms to be, on the whole, an ever-present nudge in the direction of inspiration. And as a general rule (rather one which I've imposed upon myself), I post things in place A that I wouldn't post in places B or C, which means maintaining them can remain quite a creative exercise.
WORK AND BOOK-RELATED UPDATES:
This week I sent off the near-final version of my next book proposal (fingers very much crossed). There are some small edits to make, and then exciting things may happen (even though this idea has existed in some form since 2014, it still feels like very new territory).
I remembered just now: in German, they don't say 'I'll keep my fingers crossed' when wishing someone luck. Instead, they keep their thumbs pressed, or they hold their thumbs for you: 'Daumen drücken!' or 'Ich druecke dir die Daumen'. I believe this is the case in several Germanic languages, but you get this example because I was first made aware of it while having a conversation with a German sometime in March.
A BEAUTIFUL THING:
These paintings, that are rather more ethereal than paintings, by Marina Dunbar. They are created with layers and layers of pigmented, luminous resin.
The end.
The last cyclist to leave (also not a quiet process as their strange shoes sound like hooves) apologised and said maybe now I'd now have some peace and quiet. I still haven't finished my breakfast, because in between the writing of this I've just been staring out of the window at the specimens—most of them are being blown into intriguing shapes by the wind.
Farewell, see you next sometime.
Copyright © 2017 Ella Frances Sanders, All rights reserved.