Today I feel like a single buttercup in a vast field of pink poppies.
I am gently swaying in the Autumn wind, and I am moderately satisfied.
and yet I feel like a small vegetable. waiting to be peeled, for there is so much underneath her that should be said or spoken or done, but my fuffly skin is limiting me. Won't someone with a sharp knife remove this stifling husk?
I'm not sure what to talk about today. Nothing is quite confirmed yet.
There's promise though. Real true promise. Sometimes you have to focus on a promise in order to keep running. Never say die and all. A half promise is more than unconfirmed. After all we're going to hide under silk and satin and lace and make belive for a day.
It's just another one of those days where I am totally and utterly overwhelmed to death by people, music and love. Like.... a song, a poem, and the way a person sits on his chair.
Maybe we should forget our true bohemian ways and revert to the innocent paradise of chilhood? running laughing skipping with the sly coy easy nonchalance that comes with being 9. where nothing is too much trouble.