a coffee scented morning, signs of progress and the promise of a thunderstorm in the afternoon... meanwhile, in depths of the rabbit hole, lessons regarding memory and time, that the architecture which we put in place isn't always to be trusted, or as stable as it seem from a passing glance or distance... date stamps torment chronology, weave the slow change of familiar faces, a minefield of events where dates have been mislaid... at which point a cycle over to the river in hope of some music, caught out by an impatient downpour, arriving an hour before it was meant to and leaving me soaked to the skin, which meant a pleasant drying off before arrival, finding a sax player and in the cool shelter a place to sit and watch the thunderstorms rise and fall...