Dear sisters, As I start typing I also start counting and as I already pause my writing in order to count there are twenty-seven words and I think of what to make of this number and if these twenty-seven, now forty-four, words could have been used in a better way…

It moves without line. Without time. Quietly running, expanding and transforming, spilling through space, nourished by what was there before. Fingers and tongues licking red brick and timber, man and his story. The spreading fire resists definition, resists language – an elemental force that cannot be easily bound or held.…