There are days when my tired old head won’t let me think of any stories or let me muse on life, love and everything in-between.
There are days when time gets away.
On those days it is good to walk in the clean air and watch as the cooling wind blows midnight blue clusters on the water. To think that if someone far away on the other side of the world saw me stepping along the foreshore they might believe I was an image from a postcard.
There are days when jumbled thoughts need birdsong, sunlight and trees to unwind. There are days when all I need are the enormous skies falling over the city.
Sometimes those days are the best ones of all.