It is the site of some grief yesterday, so much so that I thought my crying had brought it on. He thinks not. Perhaps, I said at breakfast, the infection has come from you since more recently you have taken to kissing me there. He doesn’t take offence, thankfully. I can be blunt, I know this. But where else could I have caught anything? There is only us two. Then I thought it could’ve been the wind, it had been sharp and my eye smarted when it caught me from just behind the harbour. Who knows? I suppose we are at the mercy of all sorts of bacteria, day in day out. I will have to be patient, though I look like a boxer the day after a fight.

In My Life Lyn Hejinian writes series’ of seemingly disconnected sentences. They are often very beautiful – pristinely-kept and closely-held memories of colours, smells, sights and feelings. I read a bit each night but they slip through my fingers, they are not mine.

A day of hard work. She was a delight to interview. Now I must write it.

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.