Three day heat wave.

We sweltered, we melted. The pied crows yawned. At ten AM in the Swartland, it's 38*C in the shade. An hour later, 43*C. The aircon in the minibus goes on the blink. The world is parched.
 

Cryptic notes from our recce:

spiderwebs on bike. (hidden)

60% black shade.

kill rose garden.

daylight bright as poss.

wreck between big tree and lollipop.

My assistant sends me a photo of a heap of red sand. The Director claps his hands.

Netherworld and blue.

Mysterious Cities.

This is Antakya or Antioch - it's on the Turkish border of Syria, in the South. It is an old testament fortress, and has the largest collection of ancient mosaics in the world. I would like to go there.

I went to Istanbul with a very empty suitcase and came back 4kgs over. Reason?

TOWELS. From Antakya. Organic cotton, hand-loomed on wooden looms, washed in olive oil soap. Thick ones (three days to make), thin ones (one day to make). Quick drying, super-absorbent and so beautiful, they had me a-flutter.

They live in different time zones...

She goes to bed while he eats lunch.

She wakes up and he's just dined.

The Knife Thrower's Assistant

There are so many stories I still want to write.

What became of the hours as he flew
back to yesterday?
And what do you say to the director when he says: Oh we'll have to shoot that in Berlin. Your sky is just way too blue.
My sky.

One windy night she forgets to close the skylights and while he eats lunch, the bed is covered in Syringa petals. She wakes up smiling.

So smashing.

There's something about this place, these people.

That makes me forget all about Mondays.

❤

Other people's laundry.

So lucky.

To know the sweet Marie and her gracious parents, who serve beautiful lunches under giant plane trees, to a sundry band of internet gypsies who've come to feel like old friends. Wildly luminous red pepper mousse... a bottomless bowl of cherries, tender little chickens, warm blackberry crumble with clotted cream. And the heavy head of a black Labrador resting on my lap.