Poetry, Sky, Light

This month I have spent my time collecting, cutting, pasting. My table was rarely tidy. A piece of linen waiting to be stitched. A library book that should have been returned last week. A stone found on yesterday’s walk. A notebook open to a sentence that no longer makes sense.

Over the years I have collected black and white photographs, pieces of textile bought mostly in India, stones and wooden sticks. This month they all talked to me. But it is paper that spoke to me the most.

I love paper, words, collages. This month I have chosen the words Poetry, Sky, Light. Perhaps this summer days help to connect with these a

This meditation invites you to sit with absence gently—not to fill it, but to notice the space it has created. We approach with clarity and restraint, attentive to what becomes visible when we no longer insist life return to what it was. What remains may be quieter than what was lost, but perhaps it is no less real.

This meditation invites you to sit with absence gently—not to fill it, but to notice the space it has created. We approach with clarity and restraint, attentive to what becomes visible when we no longer insist life return to what it was. What remains may be quieter than what was lost, but perhaps it is no less real.

I have been also reading Joan Didion’s This meditation invites you to sit with absence gently—not to fill it, but to notice the space it has created. We approach with clarity and restraint, attentive to what becomes visible when we no longer insist life return to what it was. What remains may be quieter than what was lost, but perhaps it is no less real.

This meditation invites you to sit with absence gently—not to fill it, but to notice the space it has created. We approach with clarity and restraint, attentive to what becomes visible when we no longer insist life return to what it was. What remains may be quieter than what was lost, but perhaps it is no less real.

This meditation invites you to sit with absence gently—not to fill it, but to notice the space it has created. We approach with clarity and restraint, attentive to what becomes visible when we no longer insist life return to what it was. What remains may be quieter than what was lost, but perhaps it is no less real.