International Kissing Day. 2022

I'm sat on the bus back through old mill towns.

The light is dull but the shades and textures on the building facades varies immensely.

Behind, are a multitude of shades of green and various sizes of lumps. It's the Pennines, the bit that wrought industry, rambling less so.

I sent Rae the sound I recorded without explanation. I can record but it sends, I need to learn how to choose to send it.

The sound hit me. It was a pleasant assault on the ears. Was it just that I'm unused to birdsong, or was it more? Despite being wrapped up, I was not resentful of the cold air. I felt alive.

Harle Syke