My visual index is populated with edges, precipices and rims.
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The sheer drop of objects and shadows, fascinates me: the weight of air above and below wings, the angle of a late winter slope beneath cold sunlight.
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Some of these lists includes: the abrupt decline beside a high northern road, a steep bank undercut by overflow, arcs of rain and bent grass.
Life exists on the edge, and time is the rim that we tread.
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