Kate Morgan

The greatest difference being the enormity of each day as it passes, I look back to activities of the morning in early afternoon and they are distant. That was then; the day becomes world. Here, it is not the falling of the light and each day’s evening rest that I wait for. More, it is the moment of each definite bit rolling into another. The knowledge that with evening comes dinner and sleep, and the method of that, make it the more indolent time. This being so, the character of a day, and the quality of its successes, shift their weight throughout. These qualities make the day into a slow gelatinous mass, held, on a slip of a tray, above one’s head. The slowness of indecision and weary addresses to the day break in the act of its spelling out.

Twenty-four hours later and much has happened, with a minimum of quantitative change taking place. A Sunday was as a Saturday and it was hot. We walked a different way back, and to, the market, passing two floor terraced lines of houses, streets narrow, bumps quieting them. They all have front gardens on that street, a few of which were points stopped at. The cultivated, a few different roses, one the size of a melon, backed by a virulent green climber and red carnation, on its way up the brickwork on the house’s face. Then, the polar to that clipped sweep, but far the richer in plant life and activity, came a cornucopia of a collection of plants from hotter land. Spiked faded maroon progressing from a pub-hanging basket at the short porch; a sad looking plastic orange pot low down, a brown scrounge off centre, not happy, with a label: ‘Apricot.’ There were no apricots there.

But the size of the raspberries. Bought just before we left the market, gruesome in their full circles of sweetness and water. We went past pack after pack yesterday and I told them both we could wait for better, those being not half what these are in quality and structure.  Then, it was the afternoon.

The fourth stanza – ‘lightheaded.’ The lack of words, the flat

David, again, later. Hands a book to me. “Page ten.” I go to it and, clearly set by hand, for the slip down of the second ‘r’ - 


   Field collections acquired by the museum and accessioned during the year

Included an important group of approximately 270 contemporary and early

Ethnographic specimens from Ethiopia acquired by Mr. David Solomon of

Addis Ababa,

No events occur because they unfold with length, strands prior making their entrance soft. Circumstances punctuate others. The wren won’t stop at its cheeping.

tables, part of install last Friday