I'd been walking for a while as as the light faded and was getting cold. Nothing interesting had caught my eye. I was beginning to berate myself - 'You've got to go home with an image, you're going to do this every day' - even though I'd just read in the Guardian that you shouldn't do that. I was nearly home and wandered over to the church on Psalter Lane. The large glass doors were reflecting light forward and backwards seemingly, with the result that the stained glass at the back of the church looked like it was part of the houses on the other side of the road. And following a trail of thought started by my friend Gill Lowe in response to yesterday's blog post, I remembered I had a photobook called 'Reflections', which Gill had given me and written out this poem at the front: