A love letter to Edinburgh once again (see love letters 1,2,3 and 4). Now a year since D and I have been living here, and we have felt that time, it has not rushed itself. Every moment felt and lived and hoped through.
In Greyfriar’s Kirkyard, peaceful and full of herbs and stones of course.
A detail of an angel from a gravestone on the kirk wall.
And the sky darkening, pinkish against the solidity of Pleasance houses.
And lastly, I recorded a sad little poem about building something, about memory and waiting. Not so much about Edinburgh, but tangentially related to coming back and to leaving Scotland itself. you can listen to it here.