Thursday, 27 November 2008

Do you...


She writes you a book, and you know who the characters are ....
We all speak in metaphores... some speak louder and clearer - but who understands will, I suppose... clues are all over like fairy tales, like a little girl lost in the woods finding her way back to her litte tree house along the line of pretty red ribbon: metres and metres of it...
What if she never finds her way back? what if the wolves find her first? what if she becomes so happy lost in the tiny bed of flowers that she forgets where she will be loved?
Does she know that she is loved?
She is small because that is how she feels safe: the real world is not real at all ... it is better in dreams - she should live there always (in the dream-that is where they should be)
It's lovely there with lavander pillows and pretty petals - where the wolves will never find her... where there are no small gardens to be kept comfortable in - but only fields and fields of flowers...........


Sunday, 23 November 2008


I've ran out of wool...

Friday, 21 November 2008

All in all, bar two : a nice day.

I said about feathers... it was lovely, too much wine - pretty photos. Cold and smoke with friends. new dress, half an hour ... many words & secret thoughts...
home and blurred. : mean people should be banned - gone.
another day the next with pain killers and crochet.
all in all bar two a nice day.

Saturday, 15 November 2008

A yellow one...

I saw another fairy ... I hope it was a fairy anyway,
It was yellow and small and fluttered like a moth (but not a moth or anything like that) - but faster, all the way up my wall and towards the window...
It woke me up from a really deep sleep.
She was pretty ... I'll call her Flo