By SpotsOfTime


Best bit of the week ... watching the light move around my cell as the day progresses towards the end of Friday. It never ceases to amaze me what confinement can offer up. My colleague that last week talked about wanting to swap collared me in the corridor to thank me for swapping - I was just wanting get back in there and not miss anything, particularly once I started to think of the EP13 challenge and making a collage that follows the light around the room as the day progressed.

Added later ... freespiral's comment reminded me of Wordsworth's ‘confinement’ to the sonnet form ...

Nuns Fret Not at Their Convent Room - William Wordsworth

Nuns fret not at their convent’s narrow room; 
And hermits are contented with their cells; 
And students with their pensive citadels; 
Maids at the wheel, the weaver at his loom, 
Sit blithe and happy; bees that soar for bloom, 
High as the highest Peak of Furness-fells, 
Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells: 
In truth the prison, into which we doom 
Ourselves, no prison is: and hence for me, 
In sundry moods, ’twas pastime to be bound 
Within the Sonnet’s scanty plot of ground; 
Pleased if some Souls (for such there needs must be) 
Who have felt the weight of too much liberty, 
Should find brief solace there, as I have found.

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