Yesterday then was a Criticism of Mountains

Yesterday then

I hid in a drawing I had done in my latest sketchbook

I made it so complex to infuriate and tease you. I then put it to the wall because I still have a problem with the criticism of mountains and talent that takes the place of all practise..

I then got a clicking message asking if I would like to review a board made of light.

You can draw with anything. From your toe in wet sand to a laser on the side of a mountain. Which is more devils honest? I wonder slightly terrified..

The sky is uninterrupted in its singing and the slopes have cloudy versions of themselves curtain opening onto a proscenium.

The exhibition I intend having on my sleeve is coming on. I was told I needed to retire. Teach only by example This was another message just before I missed my horse and walked the dogs along the glen to the Bothie.

Streams thundered snow melt and new flowers yawned. I imagined playing imaginary Pooh sticks with bones under a fallen log on the upper falls as I did when before. Part of the hundred. Ah yes, the past is another country and its population is regret. It goes where the stickbone goes, tumbling along time cataracts and falling white into memories..

I was asked what I wanted on my tombstone when talking about the ghost. I thought for a moment and then said, He Forgot, thankfully.

I felt like going up into the snow melt Sunday sunshine as the valley and my drawing became evening darker. The sun hid behind the hills more than a little concerned. But if you move your position by even a hairsbreadth the whole concept of the drawing changes. So stay, I said to the dogs. Draw what you see. Not what you think you see. This is the whole of the law. You must understand it to ignore it. Drawing is thinking in another language that is the opposite of temporal.

There is and was an arch of light above me and an eagle clasping a cliff side rock eyrie.

A steel blue flashing rescue crossed the bridge far, far below, where I cannot go and I clasped my drawing book to me as it got wet with large snow.

Wild goat and Stag bounded and I wished I could to, with you.