Since my return, unable to refriend the computer. There was a time when love was fear and I am afraid to be spun again into DT,its life, its overwhelming beauty and intimacy, with two other (comparable!) 3-D lives of my own.
Tonight, though, I went, was captured, surprised by these watercolors, eyes the color of waters, of your beings, your own selves reflected, and ours. There is no end to the means of your expression.
I just want to say a quiet hello. Your rooms are buzzing with people, and I am tired, spirits thin, was about to slip away when this door opens and here you are, all by yourself, away from the crowd.
We burned great fires by the wild river every night, all month long, spring cleaning the woods and pastures. Returning again soon, far from the grid, with the manual typewriter (portable Olivetti,c. 1965).
Hello Constance. I just found your comment here since I don't visit this site and what a surprise it was to see you. Thank you for stopping by. I'll check in here from time to time to see if you are around. I don't link this site anywhere. I have no idea how you found it. Lucky me. :-D
I had a feeling you'd be here eventually. Lucky me!
Do you have a sister, Trée? think of me as your older sister who happens to have some twin-ship with you, soulularly speaking. I feel protective, reading your real-life losses.
I remember when I first stumbled on Decadent Tranquility (waay back in February, was it?), and here's this guy having tea with everybody. I thought, "who is this??? where?? a guy making tea and sweet conversation for his friends.. can this be!" ****
There are splinters of dark memory and pain, there is the aloneness one does not want. Worst is the mechanicalness of people, worse even than cruelty. A child cannot become himself or herself in the presence of automatic response or non-response, especially the Air-Child who needs real hugs and embered eyes who see you. More than other types we take the shape of our environment, or armour against it. More than other types we are many selves inside, all our relations are us, bipeds to millepedes.
It's good to snap last year's dry branches and twigs on my knee, and stack them for kindling next winter. Totally mindless under the flight of birds and the sun. Then to come in for a nice cup of tea. Almond, with honey and vodka. Just kidding.(but didn't used to be!)
I'm so happy you found me here - it's like playing hooky! C.
Since my return, unable to refriend the computer. There was a time when love was fear and I am afraid to be spun again into DT,its life, its overwhelming beauty and intimacy, with two other (comparable!) 3-D lives of my own.
Tonight, though, I went, was captured, surprised by these watercolors, eyes the color of waters, of your beings, your own selves reflected, and ours. There is no end to the means of your expression.
I just want to say a quiet hello. Your rooms are buzzing with people, and I am tired, spirits thin, was about to slip away when this door opens and here you are, all by yourself, away from the crowd.
We burned great fires by the wild river every night, all month long, spring cleaning the woods and pastures. Returning again soon, far from the grid, with the manual typewriter (portable Olivetti,c. 1965).
Hello, Trée.
Constance
Hello Constance. I just found your comment here since I don't visit this site and what a surprise it was to see you. Thank you for stopping by. I'll check in here from time to time to see if you are around. I don't link this site anywhere. I have no idea how you found it. Lucky me. :-D
I had a feeling you'd be here eventually. Lucky me!
Do you have a sister, Trée? think of me as your older sister who happens to have some twin-ship with you, soulularly speaking. I feel protective, reading your real-life losses.
I remember when I first stumbled on Decadent Tranquility (waay back in February, was it?), and here's this guy having tea with everybody. I thought, "who is this??? where?? a guy making tea and sweet conversation for his friends.. can this be!"
****
There are splinters of dark memory and pain, there is the aloneness one does not want. Worst is the mechanicalness of people, worse even than cruelty. A child cannot become himself or herself in the presence of automatic response or non-response, especially the Air-Child who needs real hugs and embered eyes who see you. More than other types we take the shape of our environment, or armour against it. More than other types we are many selves inside, all our relations are us, bipeds to millepedes.
It's good to snap last year's dry branches and twigs on my knee, and stack them for kindling next winter. Totally mindless under the flight of birds and the sun. Then to come in for a nice cup of tea. Almond, with honey and vodka. Just kidding.(but didn't used to be!)
I'm so happy you found me here - it's like playing hooky!
C.
Hey sis. :-D