An image chopped along the diagonal: summer greens on the bottom left and summer skies on the top right, (same) clouds (as before), soft focus, soft edges, perhaps a hint of darkness, pale blue sky as softened through haze of summer atmosphere (no crisp blues of winter to be found), the greenery lush and full of terrifying (no?) life impulse (that grow and grow and grow code of green things), softness of bamboo leaves and fractal delicacy of maples (note to self: return in November), and then, huh, looking closely: a roof hidden in the soft mess, those imbricated tiles of which we’ve seen so many on so many walks, the layers of tiled roofing at right angles to one another, the pleasing patina of the tiles in varying shades of light and dark grey, the end caps, the spine caps, the carved talismans against fire and curse, tiles so heavy it’s a wonder they’re still used for roofs, so heavy you wonder how many have been killed by a falling tile (more than you’d imagine! we imagine), an image taken while standing on a diagonal, on a downhill descent, looking back over the shoulder, delighted by that aged (basically timeless, atemporal) greyness within the seasonal blues and greens.