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Category / River of Stones

January 8, 2012 by geraldhornsby

River of Stones – day 8

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Shop doors locked, with SALE signs half-hanging like last year’s Christmas decorations; insular pedestrians gaze through shop fronts at luxuries out of reach; grey concrete, lifeless and drab.

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January 7, 2012 by geraldhornsby

River of Stones – day 7

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Bright sunlight makes diamond slashes of the waves; overcoats are buttoned against the winter wind, but scarves fly and flap like trapped starlings.

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January 6, 2012 by geraldhornsby

River of Stones – day 6

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Bags of rubbish bask in the sun, awaiting collection; Tess sniffs the air, appreciating forbidden aromas; puddles of seawater lay where they were hurled overnight by storm tides.

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January 6, 2012 by geraldhornsby

River of Stones – day 5

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There are warnings of storms, with high winds and torrential rain; but on the beach, the sea rolls in, sedate and benign; the sun shines, and the dog wags her tail to say that everything is okay.

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January 5, 2012 by geraldhornsby

River of Stones – day 4

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Unusual for winter, cows get to sample fresh air outside barns; barren fields await the gentle caresses of spring sunshine; then the rise and fall wail of a police siren shatters the tranquility, and in the distance, a hovering black helicopter becomes a harbinger of the return to urbanity

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January 5, 2012 by geraldhornsby

River of Stones – day 3

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All ambient noise is blocked by the music in my ears, but I can sense the wind shaking the garage. Cats look through the window, wanting shelter, but wary of whirring wheels.

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January 2, 2012 by geraldhornsby

River of Stones – day 2

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The smell of woodsmoke drifts across the landscape, unseen. The sounds of chain passing smoothly over sprockets, and the miles passing by my wheels. Serenity, broken by the white-noise hiss of tyres over tarmac, approaching fast.

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January 1, 2012 by geraldhornsby

River of Stones – day 1

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Rain-soaked ground yields mud, although sure-footed dogs can use four-paw drive. Distant whistles and shouts indicate holiday dog-walkers.

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December 31, 2011 by geraldhornsby

River of Stones – 3rd practice

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A snail-trail of headlights worm their way across the dusk-darkened lane. Out to sea, spectral outlines of windfarm towers rise from inky black waters, red lights winking seductively to the heavens.

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December 31, 2011 by geraldhornsby

River of Stones – 2nd practice

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Grey skies, over grey sea, indefinite horizon. Spots of rain dotting the pavement like pennies on Maundy Thursday.

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