It rained hard in Brixton the other day. Thunder, lightening and thick, fat rain. I recorded it on my phone but it doesn’t come close to the feeling of hearing it, seeing it, smelling it in person. It’s like words in that sense, the way they rarely find the shape or the taste of the moment we wish to articulate. Words fail, sentences fall short, speech is redundant when all we crave is touch.
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Sentences slip away from me
Ruth Saxelby 