Last night, Matthew, I became George Harrison for an hour or two. It felt good.
I bend the strings in similar places, pull similar gently weeping faces, weave up and down the trellis like Jon and Vangelis. Pink panthers in pursuit of the finely tailored suit. We weave a pretty similar parachute. I doubt I would do’wit in the comfort of my own home studio though. Even if I were aiming for the same airfield in training. Gaining new ground. Safe and sound.
Sometimes we need to be pushed out of the shed by another gardener. In this case it was Axel. He’s a Dane and keen on detail. Probably the Christian Bale of worker bees. He sees the wood from the trees while I chop the timber.