[Still life] Under the circle of nightlamp, magnifying glasses, dark-blue dictionary, saucerless Spode cup of espresso. Lengthy black shadow top left is the screen. Bohemian glass candlestick, two parcels of ‘pure white’ Reflex paper, a little jade cat. Collecting together some mind words, what else to do on a Thursday night, in March, before dinner, if not some writing? Gleaming tin of pencils and biros, Great Aunt Hilda’s framed photograph of an Alice Springs gumtree (circa 1950), landline phone. Foregrounded awkwardly, a qwerty keyboard signals these letters, through leads and cables and satellites, inexplicably and ever so nicely, to you.