Illusion

Ah, Mr B - which is more lovely? The sights, sounds, smells of each wondrous day alive upon this most marvellous of freaks, this rolling roiling planet earth? Or the words we manufacture each and every one to exceed our grasp upon the realities and awe-ful visions we see, and are stunned speechless?

I wonder, sometimes, why I travel compulsively, when there is more than enough in my own garden to fill many lifetimes. And so tomorrow I'm off for Kent. Well, my friends don't live in my garden - so I'm forced on my restless journeying. Next week, France, an ephemeral dream from my childhood and I'm doomed, oh so happily, to chase it, receeding into a dusty future.