...in due time photos from this week in Dorset will emerge on the facebook, and even then I don't believe it really happened. It was a gift of weather, space and landscape, of sea, music and night skies, of wine, hills and castles, of Place, polaroids, and sketches, of steamtrains, cider and communion that made room to process the grief of departures. Those absent were missed, every dilapidated farm was a Dorset L'Abri in waiting, every meal served to increase a longing that this might be how we might always be.(Image: Drew's)
3 comments:
shut up about that picture. there's no way that's real.
ah, jumping photos. je les aime vraiment.
life-giving yet so easily a pretense that our lives will forever be together on that way: i will always have dreams concerning Chinese lanterns & cliffsides.
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