It was fast flowing for the most part, except for one small area. That was where the island was. The water should be faster, but for some reason, it slowed. That was how, at nine years old, I was able to swim to the island. That was where I first met my ‘friend’.
I reached the shore, a hopefully waterproof bag on my back. It was foolhardy, but how else would I carry food and something to dry myself with?
‘Who are you?’ A voice said above me. Looking up, there stood a boy, not much older than me, and he did not seem to be wet. ‘You swam here?’ He asked. I nodded. He pointed behind him, ‘I used a boat.’
I reached into my bag. Thankfully, the rag I brought along seemed dry. It took about a minute to get my hair mostly dry. Draping the rag over a branch, I walked over to the boy, holding out a hand, ‘My name is Franz.’
Suki White gave us a brilliant workshop at our December meeting showing up the various different Artists’ Books that she’s bought and made, and then gave us a demonstration on how to make our own. Cue the Blue Peter bit of lots of Pritt Sticks, cut out magazine photos, plain white paper … and a lot of imagination!