I woke this morning in those moments before dawn; the world still, pale and a thousand shades of blue, that blackbird the only sound. It made me itch for blank notebooks and fresh sheets, steaming tea in the early light and the scent of lilacs and salt on the breeze... Today the sky is white not blue and the wind blows in from the south, whispering in foreign tongues and making promises it will never keep.
As usual I'm surrounded by papers, piled high or pinned to walls, I need to find some order to it, stitch it all together somehow. I always work this way, I leave the narratives strung across my studio walls, catching the light and the breeze until the last possible moment, it's the fear that if I put them in order and hand them over that no one else will see what I see...
The house smells like summer and the lost boys are waiting for me to finish the story but there hasn't been a star in the sky for three days... Today I love blueberry cake for breakfast and those swallows flying home. I love slow food and slow travel, slow days and slower nights. I love, love and all its kindness and loathe bitter words, hurtful and cruel. Today the woman I want to be has long dark hair, she is kindness and bravery and she shares beauty like other women share candy. She can finish that story, she can close her eyes and know his heart and she doesn't ever doubt...
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