Winter

True winter: frost, darkness, dazzling low sun.

I realise I like not having central heating and keeping the window open at night because I feel connected that way. Heating isolates me from the winter in a way the wood stove doesn't, and sleeping curled into my beloved duvet with Suscipe on my shoulder and air on my face makes the comfort all the more precious.

Waking up to see the sun rise over the water is the final touch of earth magic.

This is sounding like a parody of the American Express ad. Oh dear.

It is so much better to see the essences of things, without being distracted by appearances. I think cinema has raised the aesthetic bar so high, makes it easy to form superficial judgements, to concentrate on the spinach between the teeth. Maybe I have just tired of being hyper-critical, as if that raised my bar.

The Brazilian film House of Sand was stunning, physically slow and beautiful, spare of words and unsentimental. Everyone see it.