Pot Hole

Gradient it was steep,

the camber made me slip a few feet,

until the verge I did touch,

the kerb I did touch,

the verge I did nudge,

my foot down,

exhaust white billow,

my head impacted an inflated pillow,

skidding u turn,

pothole black flat that was that,

Picnic mechanic wait,

the signpost 50 miles to London it said,

the tyre gone,

the toll for speeding,

skidding pothole.


Walking along the cliffs of Anglesey, North Wales, the wind, wild sea and treacherous rocks, steep cliffs and heather, as wild as wild can be, as peaceful as a blustery wilderness can be, as calm and inspiring as a quiet observance and acceptance of nature can bring to me.

I think to settle somewhere by the sea, on the cliff top in a cottage, or a light house upon the rocks, but I feel a sense of lose and giving up at this idea, I’m not sure why, to keep going, one place to another, always new, seems to be my way, to find my path along an ever changing route, from birth to death.

Morbid? Not so, strikingly honest, perhaps, but death is no bad thing, as necessary as life itself, as nature knows only to well.

Monkey Island, Cần Giờ, Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam

We took a few buses and a bike taxi to Monkey Island, last weekend, a very beautiful area, with lots of swamp, trees and monkeys, it is always fascinating to see their expressions and lots of cheekyness as expected, one nicked my hat, which I thought a fair trade for letting me take a shot, what a great experience to hang out with our cousins for a bit!

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