June and I crossed shadows like duelists at a false dawn before she trudged to work and I fed soft words to the animals. I watered the space gypsy campsite which was randomly set up in the middle of our paper handkerchief lawn (surrounded by paper doily borders and second hand clothes rail trees) and then threw the silver gauntlet into the shrubbery. I worked in the far away closeness of my studio, occasionally watching sunshine sprites dance on an inspiration splattered carpet. Outside a large stone head had slipped to a very strange angle, its partly closed eye now making a fish frantically emerging from the placid lake when seen over the plastic chair I had earlier been sitting on. June came in immediately after this looking like a bouquet of dead flowers belatedly found on a doorstep.