And I’m off again.
I work a job that requires me to travel quite a bit this time of year. I have written… very. little. these last few weeks and the need to write makes my arms and hands feel itchy and hot (or maybe that’s sunburn).
The only thing that`s keeping me sane is a little black notebook I carry about with me. As I wait for the ferry to dock, the bus to come, to board the plane, to catch another train… I write little snippets of things that describe what I see about me. I have the idea that someday they`ll make a brilliant line in a book…
here`s what I`ve seen lately:
Old mountains like crumpled tissue paper piled against the sea
Little girls in bright dresses flitting like butterflies across the lawn
A brass chandelier hung from the ceiling like a curled dead spider
Stained glass saints: bold, grand and precariously fragile
little scrawled lines… here there and everywhere across the paper… they mean everything and nothing at the same time.
How about you? Tell me… What do you see?