Something there is that doesn’t love a wall, That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it, And spills the upper boulders in the sun; And makes gaps even two can pass abreast. The work of hunters is another thing: I have come after them and made repair Where they have left not one stone on a stone, But they would have the rabbit out of hiding, To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean, No one has seen them made or heard them made, But at spring mending-time we find them there. I let my neighbour know beyond the hill; And on a day we meet to walk the line
The Piano Blog
I'm trying to play the Piano for a while most days. Just improvising whatever comes into my head.
Just to capture a moment.
All these pieces are unedited, one take and so mistakes are included !
All Photographs by Ruth Field
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'An essential aspect of creativity is not being afraid to fail'