Tag: Tom Lee

This entry is part of a series, Papercuts» Cranbrook, Mid-June After Martin Harrison The inarguable harbour proves the point hit by the low winter sun, we squint fishing for cutlery, facing the mirrors in a high-ceilinged room. We discuss pies and north coast water, pale meat, dark gravy, Broken Head. Each beach orchestrates a meeting of sand and water, a certain mood or consistency, according to sandbars, light, temperature, rock outcrop—and what to call the way we gauge the feeling of surrounding water, its pressures, its tastes and density on our faces, in our thinking and remembering mouths, summing up this place and the last, this place and the possible next. The feeling of a wet face in the open air. These summer memories persist in their fading. I watch the unpainted, unphotographed scenes, where two shadows stand in the shallows hurling a ball back and forth for eternity. Knowing, [...]