As evening closes in, the tower of the High Bridge looks like the home of a mage. A light gleams inside it, eerie and suggestive.
Over sweetened almonds, we talk about embittering life events.
A blank, bright field, and at the far end, two kids throwing a frisbee that they never catch.
Long walks through the city are full of interesting shapes. Some buildings look like a wedge of pie, narrowing where two streets split in an acute angle. Metallic semicircles shine from the side of a substation. Buildings march along the river in cubes and rectangular prisms.
There's a free class on Photoshop, which I'm not familiar with, though I figure it may prove useful at some point. I'm the only one who shows up. The instructor looks as awkward as I feel, but we get past that quickly enough, and twenty minutes later I'm pasting a giant baby onto the surface of the moon.
He crouches by the side of a tennis court and buries his face in the dog's neck. It's the happiest moment of his day so far.
The evergreen sapling looks like a glowing gold feather duster in the forest.