My Diary

I worked in the garden all morning, enveloped in deep sea polythene and making marks like Michelangelo painting the face of god on the surface of the moon. June had her Narcissus face on and spent the morning peering into the depths of a neutral grey container I had borrowed from Echo. I went to the town in the almost neutral grey afternoon, stopping off on the way home to photograph cars circling a tree centred roundabout – I thought of them as electrons circling the nucleus which in my alternative world is an old man curled up in a school playground. June felt better in the afternoon, moving her fingers closer together as I got smaller in the dinner plate distance. While she slept I painted camouflage colours on the set of white wings I had found in the wardrobe.

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