The day the sun rose in the west

The day the sun rose in the west

You wake one morning after a disturbed sleep. Not a nightmare, but a dream abound with uncertainty; on one hand troubling, the next exhilarating. Notions of the solar system, of half-determined faces and conjoined animals drift faintly from your head: the wings of a skylark beneath a jackdaw’s beak, a barracuda propelled by the limbs of a dog. Each creature, in the dim light of dawn, no clearer than a fisherman’s lamp in a winter storm.

Pushing back the covers – the soft, warm fabric running through your hands like tepid water – you leave your bed and make cautiously for the door. The iron handle, cold upon your palm, clunks loudly as it turns. Your reverie is broken and in that instant the dreams are gone.

Awake, you are surprised to see that surrealism paints the walls, not so much a melting clock, but a show of light that defies the norm. Tones of peach and coral ebb languidly through the hallway, their light source soaking your body with warmth. How unusual, to see such luminance so early in the day. Your pace quickens, curiosity fuelling the tank. Across the hardwood floor, an amble becomes a walk, and a walk a canter.

The petunias that hang beside the front porch of your home have always drank from the afternoon sun, yet today, as you burst through the door with confusion running rife through your veins, their petals nod, variegated and delicate, in a puddle of morning light. You look at them, momentarily humbled by their innocence, before raising your gaze to the horizon.

The sun rises in the west, for the first time in your life and any human’s for that. What do you do?

Climb into the Cave – Santorini, Greece

Climb into the cave

Climb into the cave, Santorini, Greece

We climbed to the cave in the midday heat, appreciative of the shade as its vault eclipsed the sun. Fifty metres separated its base from its roof. We cut off the steep path and scrambled between two crags, pausing to catch our breaths as the ground beneath our feet became loose. For all its height the cave was relatively shallow, and our hands were soon upon the dusty surface of the back wall.

A hundred metres below lay the flatlands of Santorini’s south-eastern coastal plains. Lethargic waves rolled onto the island’s black volcanic sands, pushing the scent of sea salt and plant resin into my airways.

Waking me from my reverie, a flock of turtle doves winged into the cave, dislodging a bank of debris as they came to rest somewhere in the cavity’s upper reaches. Landing not far from my person, part of me wished I’d been beneath the rockfall; I could think of no greater souvenir from our adventure than an abrasion from a dove in a cave.

Cover Design – an amalgamation experiment

A Walk to the Water - painted cover - trees

As if I hadn’t already asked enough of you…here is another book cover design. After assessing the comments from the previous cover design post, I feel this comprises elements from both. Below is a reminder of the two previous images.

A Walk tot he Water cover design   A Walk to the Water cover design

If you have any thoughts, I would love to hear them. Thank you and enjoy your day.