i saw a wren fly low and swiftly through a plantation of thickly planted hawthorns - how does it see and avoid the many thorns and twigs and branches (perhaps only 10 to 20cm apart) at such speed in such a thicket?... it seemed to fly in an almost straight line...

feeling cold after this walk i was restored by a bowl of carrot soup with brown bread and butter... back in this familiar cafe i realise that i have moved away from an ambience i like (and was well adapted to) and that i have yet to find, or to create, the fictional reality that i seek... (in my new place, though it's almost emerging)...

Then, after walking through the city to collect herbal medicine and to replace a broken kitchen knife, i travelled back in a crowded tube train, standing close to, and almost touching, other travellers... hundreds of us accepting a proximity we'd normally refuse...

...this degree of adaptation cannot be good.... what a contrast to the horse and rider and myself crossing the heath alone (though the proximity of rider to horse exceeds that of one passenger to another in the crowded tube train)...