Someone has written ‘Leave only footprints’ on a large stone by South Beach. Yes. I agree. Too much stuff. I begin the process of passing on. Passing on things. My mind fills with ideas for new work. Make this, make that. Yes. Yes. But not now. Let’s stay with the emptying process. Make space. And wait. Wait and see what comes in.
I walk. I walk morning and afternoon. In the sun. Two men are walking ahead of me. They called it a ‘Sky Burial’ one of them is saying. Horrific, he says, to be eaten by birds. Just put me in a cardboard box, he says, I don’t need a coffin. I want one of them Thai farm burials, the other man replies. My bones crushed and scattered over the paddy fields of Phuket, he says, then I can return to Aber in a bag of Morrisons rice. They laugh.
I sit on a park bench and wait for him. The sun warms my skin. For a moment. Just for a moment, I am empty. Nice.
This morning, before light, a mass of gulls on the rocks.