My sketchbook has returned from Louise, giving me some new directions to follow. Memory seems to be an enduring theme in our shared book, an open-ended theme with almost limitless possibilities.
On the theme of memory, I have The Song of Wandering Aengus by W B Yeats bashing around in my brain, looking for a way out onto my sketchbook pages;
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.