They were standing outside the Pier Pressure nightclub. She was pressing his body against the wooden fascia of the Ice Cream Parlour, a lit cigarette in her right hand as she did so. They were kissing hard, their faces pushed up close, hungry, urgent. As I walked passed they must have pulled away from each other for I heard him say something. His voice was casual, talking as if to an acquaintance, or someone he had just met. There was no intimacy, no secret code. A stealing.

It wasn’t what they promised. The wind was not so strong. I walked my usual walk. And even the rain didn’t come.

Most of my domestic work is done. Good

I think we have found someone to help. I need to accept what is. I’d like to keep it a little longer but if it is too old, then so be it. Let the abundance come to cover it. For all is stagnant for now. No work. Just this. And this is enough. I think. I worry over it. Is it worthy of my time? Is it well written enough? I’m learning, I told myself as I walked, I’m learning to write. Let that be enough. That is project enough for a life. A life time, I think.