He drove me two hours there and two hours back just to make a drawing. I saw it in my mind’s eye but my drawings never come out how I see them beforehand. It doesn’t matter, he would say. My ever wise love. I struggled with it. And the struggle was made worse by two people ambling over to talk to me. “I saw you set up,” said the woman, leaning over to peer at my drawing, “how are you getting on?” Then her partner pitched in. He was also leaning over me to watch. “Chrome must be quite difficult to draw,” he said, helpfully. “Yes,” I said, willing them away, far away, before adding all sorts of provisos in the weight of their imagined judgement, like – I need to get used to buildings, I’m only practising and so on. I finished it. But it was an uphill struggle.
There was a van on the Prom this morning with its headlights blaring light. I walked towards it. No driver but there was a man fast asleep on the passenger side.
