New York


Chasing light and tracing shadows.

And listen to No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross, a hauntingly beautiful song by Sufjan Stevens (who we got to listen to live this week thanks to the visit of the best babysitter in the world, my sweet sister).


14/52 Shadow


At the beginning of last week the word shadow made me think of something dark lurking around the corner; something gloomy looming ahead.  It made me shiver and look over my shoulder. It made me uneasy like a smudge on a screen in the shape of something sinister.

But then the sun came out and we went to the playground in the piazza again and again, and you asked me to ‘fly away the pigeons’ that were creeping closer like shadowy grey stalkers. I laughed and clapped and startled them and you squealed with delight as they flapped their wings in fright and flew away.

And I remembered a different kind of shadow, the one that only exists in the bright  light of day; that distinguishes one thing- clearly- from another; that lengthens your body late in the day like a stretch and a sigh of relief.