There is emptiness. There is no sound, you are not bound to anyone. Solitary receptivity opens you to nature’s delight, pushes you towards the light. The clear blue sky, the clouds passing by, the trees with their fresh bright green leaves, the mountains rolling into an infinite dark green space. You are free from social shackles and find yourself at one.

The word as a seed, as organic material and writing like a plough that sinks into the earth.

A seedbed is a place where seeds germinate, sprout and gain strength. A place to grow and protect the seedlings before finally transplanting them to the garden. I really like the image of thinking about words in danger, words being injured, words dying, which no longer appear in any dictionary. I felt a seedbed to be a kind of burrow for them, a place to recover, and be able to grow again, a starting point where old words can begin to germinate, sprout and become part of something, in our conversations, in our day to day life.