It’s a warm, lazy afternoon. The silence nudged gently by the tapping of the keyboard and the soft whir of the washing machine from the kitchen. The wooden floor feels cool below my shoe-weary soles and lies scattered with stray strands of just-shampooed hair – black, long, wispy. Damp hair feels so utterly sensuous on my back and shoulders. There is no other way to describe it really. It adds perfectly to the warmth of the sun.

Why am I writing this? Am not sure really… just one those pointless things that you have to do, without bothering to find an excuse! It’s like when you walk along a still pond and drop in a pebble to see the ripples, it’s like when you pass by a fountain and dip in your hand for a splash, it’s like when you see a rose bush in bloom and touch the petals, it’s like when you take off your shoes and walk on grass or smile without knowing why…

Once in a while it feels good to do things that you can’t really explain. You look back, smile and shake your head in half-amusement, wondering whether it was really you who did it.