esquiress

I fell asleep with a case of scopophilia- which I had just learned means the overwhelming desire to look.  Seattle lay in the haze of the horizon.  I need just wait. The amount of books packed in my carry on, ridiculous, yet nothing but enlightening.  I was time travelling alone, for an extended trip, with a new identity. The glow of the sun began it's blazing ascent, first touching the clouds, then the wing outside my window, and finally resting on my sleeping neighbor's face.  Through the crack in the window clouds fluttered near me, if only they could touch my face.  I cried. Silently.  As if baptized in my own tears, a new day began.  With great welcome Emily Dickinson whispered into my ear ..... " To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, one clover, and one bee, and revery. The revery alone will do, if bees are few."  And so I learned the theme of my trip. REVERIE :  a daydream, a delirium, the condition of being lost

After six years of wearing the hat of stay at home mother, I have jumped into the world of working outside of my home.  I work some inside my home too. What I am doing is flexible, so far. From doing well at one small job has spawned two others. I currently have three part time jobs and an art show on my agenda. This isn't including actively being a wife, mother and step-mother. (playing in the matrix- below-) ["everything the body can do is potentially enjoyable.  Yet many people ignore this capacity, and use their physical equipment as little as possible, leaving its ability to provide flow unexploited.  When left undeveloped, the senses give us chaotic information: an untrained body moves in random and clumsy ways, an insensitive eye presents ugly or uninteresting sights, the unmusical ear mainly hears jarring noises, the coarse palate knows only insipid tastes."  P. 95 FLOW ] ["If the functions of the body are left to atrophy, the quality of li

nietzsche- thus spoke zarathustra

Reverie: a daydream, a delirium, the condition of being lost in thought. Oh Seattle, how I miss thee.

It's more about the wind than anything. The way it touches your face, just barely, before moving on. -me

My clock is always wound, no time to let the seconds tick away. I grew used to letting the moss gather. a fern bending to the touch of the unfamiliar. I long to be sought through the spyglass of the one I love. To be habitually loved is not enough. To habitually love another is not good enough either. The spirit of the pigment I have accepted as my own, embraced abroad, swirls in a rainstorm down the sewer systems of a town I wish to walk in at night time. 

I stumbled across something amazing. I can only dream of opening one up myself: Image credit: Mikael Risedal Image credit: Mikael Risedal A library is a book collection ( byblos = book). A xilotheque is a wood collection ( xylos = wood). " The Wooden Library in Alnarp is a unique collection of "books", each part describing a certain species or variety of tree or shrub. The collection consists of 217 volumes and was made in Nürnberg in Germany ca. 1805-1810. Wooden libraries - or xylothek, from the Greek words for tree, xylon, and storing place, theke - flourished for a short period in history, around 1790-1810, mainly in Germany. They were a further elaboration of the cabinets of natural curiosities that was common during the 18th century, and consisted of simple pieces of wood specimens placed together in some kind of cupboard. In a refined form it took the shape of "books" where you could find details from the tree inside and