Another test post with random text from an old blog draft:
It’s energetic I suppose, living my life like this, going forth and forward between two countries and homes (one half-buried, one afloat), between my lover and my solitude, between the borrowed rooms of friends. It’s a circuitous life, moving with and within the seasons, passing to and from the sunshine, to and from the wet starry dark.
It’s a tiring life too, my heart strung out between too many places, stretched thin and fraying a bit at the edges. But then the morning light gently suffuses it, the breeze catches the worn tatters which flutter a moment, then settle and still, because I’m somewhere at least, through choice or chance (if there’s even a difference).
Port Bannatyne, Bute; Pontycymer, south Wales; Glasgow