twenty candles will light up the room

music: mr. weather man, rebekah higgs

mood: thoughtful thinking

after a certain point, it was obvious, growing up wasn't going to have any further effect on me. years stacked on top of my experience could be peeled back like a sardine lid to reveal - voila! - the same little person peeking out from under.

-sarah sheard, 'almost japanese'

sunday night was cold but we brought blankets & tea & brandy, we watched the moon rise over our picnic. the angle of almost full, the tilt of citadel hill; darkness fills the eastern sky & streetlights stretch for miles through the spring & the winter & the morning. i fell asleep to strange dreams, i could feel my bones growing old against themselves.
i gave myself an empty, open day: eating a carefully-chosen persimmon and writing in point pleasant, dragon-chai for cold fingers at trident, walking, listening, wishing. i bought 'the great hopeful someday' by elisabeth belliveau and stopped to read under the rhododendrons on my way home. in the afternoon, i ate chocolate, watched a french movie & took a nap.
knowing friends find the most perfect gifts; an antique magnifying glass, a journal for favourite places, blank canvases, orchids, beautiful poems & letters, a rice paper balloon, morse-code messages, lunch on the library wall, spray-painted horses, an indoor birthday-day picnic!

and i almost had my fortune told but when beside the curtain, i mostly wanted mystery.