19 Jan Becoming accustomed to not knowing.

Part of winter is bare ground. Stretches of earth with nothing growing. The necessary time between planting seed or bulb, and the first shoots. At certain times in my life the bare ground stretching out before me felt life giving. There were moments in my teenage years when the joy of realising how much I had to learn and discover was exhilarating. The first art exhibition I went to on my own. The first time I walked home in the dark because I didn’t have enough money for the taxi. The first time I went to Paris. My first kiss. The...