4/5/2023 0 Comments Catherine finch![]() ![]() Then, I scratch another mark on the floor. I follow its rise up the wall, as it expresses for me the most glorious, most intense shades, before fading into darkness. Catching my breath I watch it form, then slip into irregularity. Each evening I wait for a particular moment when the square becomes perfect. It may be framed with regular sides and corners, but the arc of the sun creates subtle changes on the opposing wall. If the sky is clear, my light is warm and yellow, paler when it is cloudy, almost white when the moon deflects the rays of the unsleeping sun. In the morning, it admits a softness when grey dawn creeps in. These things can be seen by everyone, but my square of light is mine and I am blessed because it is rich and intense and solely for me. Out there, I imagine the beams of an alien sun creating a broad sweep, catching the shiny surfaces sparkles on running water, flashes of brilliance when a sword is lifted high or a precious jewel shines on a woman’s breast. I cannot reach my square, but I devise the sides to be the length of my arm, elbow to fingertip. I see peaks and valleys, river courses, a flat stretch of water, and I think of home.īut I have a gift – the gift of an empty square, and through the space created by right angles and four straight sides, light enters. Sometimes, in desperation for softness, I hurl my blanket across the floor and watch the fabric settle in folds and creases. He left few awkward edges, although I found them all when I scrutinised the intimate corners of my world. ![]() This Saracen builder was indeed diligent. It is square based, high walled with rectangular stones. ![]() Then he removes its identity with his chipping and tapping and is only satisfied when it is like the others he has shaped. The mason reaches for a rock, roughly formed, unique. Nature shows a discomfort with right angles and straight lines, yet men will seek to fashion them still. I used to live a life of curves the rump of a hill, thunder clouds piling up in a hot sky, my wife’s hip as she lies facing me, the line of her body smooth under the sheet. ![]()
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