This is an empty cup, it's dirty, and I
want to throw it out, it represents,
a period of reading, with tea, on trains,
it came from Starbucks in Leeds, and
was, and is, connected to some work and
conversations I was having with Simon at
the time. Rumi, looking out of windows,
and the poetry of the everyday. Stillness,
content, and the nothingness of a
train journey, allows my head to
wander, and my thoughts to unfold.
Now, when I'm cycling, in the cold,
nothing feels more brilliant than downing
a hot cup of tea at the end. The pause,
and gap, while my body recovers and
my mind pauses, doing, and thinking of
only my most basic needs. The
poetry, of the most basic things



.