All day I have been shuffling words. They clack clack against my fingerbones.
Until finally I throw them all up and inbetween the long wild rising and the fall I find what I've been looking for.
I shall go down to a beach in my mind. I shall become half invisible behind the high sharp grasses at the edge of New Zealand. And when I have dragged drowned things from the dark waters, and when the stars are all buried in the hills, and when I am a story right through me, then I'll know how to shape that heart-stopping, breath-holding moment of silence into words that lie gently in my hands, surrendered and ready for dissection.