other than sex

Most of the morning and then the afternoon was spent waiting for the promised sunny spells to materialise. The cloud remained firm and the light was unceasingly poor, hardly a breath of air. Anxious and sinking hour after hour, edgily relinquishing the opportunity to go photograph until remembering knowing with complete certainty that it is an act that is richer than the body alone is capable of and was out and on my way, rushing for miles, heart beating fast and out of breath all the way.

Then arriving at the smell of earth and sawdust and blank open sky along the long embankment perimeter (my way in these last couple of years). A hundred trees and five hundred bushes in the space of one week cut down.