April is the cruelest month and my favourite - heat and ice, birdsong and wildness.
On the eve of my birthday I lounge in sunlight, with tea-green lamb's wool around me and coffee porter before me. I watch the boats on the bay and wonder if peace and strength are possible without love.
I should have been in Florence today, dizzy with wonder.
Whimsical clothing and the most boring textbook of all - today's odd combination. Life stands so still that I'm surprised the sun still wanders.
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