Reflections of a working writer and reader
As I sit at my table, for days, months, years, slowly adding words to empty pages, I feel as if I were bringing into being that other person inside me, in the same way that one might build a bridge or a dome, stone by stone. As we hold words in our hands, like stones, sensing the ways in which each is connected to the others, looking at them sometimes from afar, sometimes from very close, caressing them with our fingers and the tips of our pens, weighing them, moving them around, year in and year out, patiently and hopefully, we create new worlds. Orhan Pamuk
Mark Swinton is Assistant Organist at Bath Abbey. Today he was in York to play four short pieces at York Minster.
One of the pieces, Swinton’s Cantus – Prelude on a Somerset folk tune, was by my friend, Bryan Boulter.
A short interlude of colour and light in an otherwise rainy and grey day in the heart of Yorkshire.
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I was at this recital in York Minster, too. Bryan Boulter’s piece really took me by the ears. A wonderful moment!
jb says: That’s really unfair, Jeremy. Now I’ve got to put a face to a name.