The coolness of night enters within the cottage, wide open french windows look onto the inner garden. A lemon tree shelters a large quartz and next to it a torch awaits being lit. I shall go sit next to it soon, well before midnight, and open the doorway through which I may glimpse the fairy kingdom. Perhaps there I may find the answer to my restlessness of this night, the need to be wild and to make something be which never was before. The Siddhe are not who many humans think, they are the fey children of nature, not at all human nor godlike. They are entirely themselves and the human who considers them his friend may well be wrong. Then again, as among any other folk, there are types and types and also rugged individuals. I have met one who migrated and somehow won the right to leave his world of origin and to inhabit a human body. I can´t say I know him much, but I may come to know him yet and perhaps we both shall be the richer for it. Interesting times we live in.
Onto another subject: the joining of bloodlines. Witch lines, of course. You dont really expect me to talk about any other kind in any depth, now. I am wondering what way it is gained other than through procreation and also how two of different lines meet anyhow.
Somewhere in inner space stands a doorway. Cross at exactly the thirteenth hour and you may find your own everywhen home, exactly as you like it. This is mine, a woodlands cottage I retreat to when I hanker after my fireside, books, candles and the aroma of food cooked on a real wood stove. It is a real place somewhere on the globe and also above it...
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