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Kindle Notes & Highlights
‘I swooped through leicestershires of swift green light.’
The hardest thing of all to see is what is really there.
cock blackbird, yellow-billed, stared with bulging crocus eye, like a small mad puritan with a banana in his mouth.
At this time of a winter’s day one can see the light turn and begin to flake and burn down to the west in a cold mercurial glow.
My eyes were sore from endlessly stubbing against the aching whiteness of the chalk.
A wave of turquoise froze into a kingfisher standing on a stone,
exceptionally pristinated vision,
