A crisp cold cuts through the air - it’s touch slices a cross-hatch of time. Opaque light drifts over the day’s colours - layering a whiteness that signals the move from autumn to winter. Contrast softens as the fingers of dusk caress the afternoon, and introspection takes hold.
I walk on familiar ground. Memories crystallising around me, though the mold no longer fits as tight as it did. There are buildings cut from the silhouette; signs and banners have changed - moved on, and I find my footsteps altered in their purpose.
A meeting in Newcastle at the Medical school - delving into their research into Type 1 Diabetes, a quick look around old haunts, a catch-up with an old friend. Looking out from within the whirlwind I realise I am, at once, more certain about what I want - and more terrified that I won’t achieve it! A deep breathe, a whiskey, a shrug and I make my way over to Durham.
Returning to the Durham Lumiere has become a ritual for myself and Caroline. A crossroads between the medieval city and the technology of lighting and projection that holds thoughts in time and allows for reflection and hope. And, as I find my thoughts speeding up, I take moments to stop and look - to sketch and write, to see and think; and squint to see a face I recognise staring back through marks scribbled and symbols tapped... Do I really look like that?