Wednesday, August 15, 2007
JOURNAL: siddhe with wings and red flowers in their hair
Borne by the winds of change, they travel ahead of me to protect and to shield those too young to have the duty. To avenge the lack of scruple and to seal the door of evil. Hands raised to fend and to punish the trespasser. Siddhe who love the innocent children of the moon, the maidens who in youthful enthusiasm glow and seek.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
JOURNAL: waiting for Siddhe II
Un hada, a dryad rather...and it reminds me of one who loves fairies and believes fervently in one day reaching them or their reaching her.... I expect she has no idea I think about her and about fairies and about how like green leaves is her scent and how like smooth, pale tree bark is her skin. Strange destinies which bring us close only to make us part. So rare and delicate she is, so dear to me and so far away in time. Wherever you are, sweet as a peach I remember you and one day the paths shall open again.
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The still room
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No, not a room which doesn't roam, nor usually a silent room. Mrs Beeton would have known at once not only what kind of room it is, al... -
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