by Amanda Harlech .

Yellow light...

Autumn. Returned from stormy France to this slanting yellow light. Garden article hanging over my head like a spook. Keep wandering out into the turning rust and chill of the evening to pick blackberries - anything but write. Sometimes the beauty of the day or the slew of stars or the strange magnification of the moonlight makes the idea of not watching unbearable. As if to try and reproduce that feeling would mean missing another intensity.

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