The cool bluebells in the woods. We went to Oakamoor. I think bluebells might be how heaven smells. Though they are not my favourite smell. Each flower so delicately fashioned.
Nina, our cat, lying in the sun. She was all peace and white and honeyed tortoiseshell. Her white was so white.
The sun on my girl’s hair. How thick and radiant her hair looked. A beauty which could not be found in a music video or airbrushed magazine. Certainly not in acrylic.
An old, bound book on a dusty floor, lit by through-window-light. The dust motes sang and danced around it. Inside could be encapsulated anything in the world. But it looks so plain and humble. New bound books don’t look at all as nice.
There were also some cows on the way to Oakamoor that were very pretty.
