Collaboration with writer Laura Mansfield

Monday 23rd

It was dark by the time Clarice had found me.
Sat still over the potting bench. Hands dug into the mothy warmth of
the thick soil, enclosed in the jurassic shadows of the candle lit hot house.

We had been working and waiting and planning and growing and daring not to breathe.
And today as I watched the soil I saw the small green shoot that would change our fortune.