To hear what isn't there, you have to cosy up to what is there. You have to have some kind of familiarity. Like an time-tested friendship, you nestle into its form so that you can be held by it
Singing what isn’t there
Sliding into no-time
Autumn Equinox. A time in between. A moment of stillness amid inexorable change, the slow turning of the seasonal wheel towards autumn. A day of balance where darkness and light are in equal measure. An invitation to slip-slide into the eternity enfolded within each moment.
Becoming Visible
I've been hiding. Habitually hiding, for so long that I didn't realise I'd become invisible. Shrinking myself, shifting my shape so I could slot in here, slip by there. Smooth as an adder sliding through long grass. Unseen.
Woman on the Edge 
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