with words, wonder

Two people slightly in front of me, to my left, crane their heads to the sky, following the one-hundred-and-eighty-year-old structure to our right.

7:00.

I love how a conversation can flow from dishes to Ted Lasso 1 to stickers.

Sometimes you wipe away words and their imprint – the place where you left them – remains inked in your mind.

The twentieth episode of Wonders of Web Weaving is out: In Episode 20, I chat with Sara, the author of sarajoy.dev and whimsica11y.net, among other things, the importance of web accessibility, screen readers, and the joy of exploring and making things on…

My home page is a poem.

Summer is becoming autumn: as days pass, the green leaves slowly turn yellow.

I woke up in excitement this morning.

I close my eyes and I can still see the blanket of stars that I saw moments ago when I was leaning as close as I could into the glass of the window such that I could see as many stars as possible.

You get that darkness out your head, yeah You had it with you from the start The lightning in your heart ~ Kid, The Revivalists Last evening – and for the last few days – I have been feeling a little bit down.

We’ve gotta keep going.

The eighteenth episode of Wonders of Web Weaving is out: In Episode 18, I chat with Ava, the author of blog.avas.space about, among other things, data protection and privacy, consent in the context of privacy, the armchair of great blogging, and more.

Earlier this week I was chatting with a friend about the skills I am learning from art history.

Earlier this year I noticed my Artemis reader page (the page that lists posts published by sites to which I am subscribed) was loading slowly.

You can use the web to share your poetry, or photography, or essays, or drawings, or sketches, or music, and everything in between.

rabbits leaping, birds tweeting, the sun rising, hills welcoming, breeze blowing, paths winding, potential painting, colours calming: skies awakening, day breaking.

colours shimmering, sun lowering. leaves leaving, seasons deepening. trees lightening: branches preparing. winds cooling, time wintering.

six strings sit still song soon.

This is my second music exchange with V.H.

trees and canopies shelter for the fisherman stoic as a river: he is still in movement engaged like a painter watching the moment.

Opening the window, a vivid dancing shadow of the trees between the glass and the sun appears the wall, illuminating yesterday’s ideas written across my whiteboard.

There was no moonlight tonight.

When I last visited the National Museum of Scotland, they had an ~A5 booklet of 10 ideas of things to do in an art gallery.

eyes closed, sights of day — memories — appear vivid as trees and paths paint the skyline with colour.

After the IndieWeb Zine Pop Up in May, I decided that I wanted to make a zine.