i know this might come as something of a surprise.
you and i both know how long i've held on to the dusty, rose-colored corners of my mind. and i love a titillating mystery the way i love old books and what did or didn't happen at roswell.
but quite honestly, these cards you've been showing me...
i'm beginning to see, well...
inkblots.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
i know no better experience than growing your own strawberries, except, perhaps, eating them.
7 comments:
fery interesting
(that's my psychoanalyst voice)
loved this :)
inkblot?
inky is one of my favourite co-bloggers!!
;)
clever and moving - i love it.
and relate.
Hhmmmm ... I think you just disendiagnosed yourself. Impressions are such fleeting things.
endless attempts to impress and it is so wired in and so much less in the end and not at all what it pretended to leave and didn't impress after all at all, or in a very limited way. this after considerable delay, like one who fails to get the punch line from looking at it all wrong or simply worried about blots of things.
i'm seeing things, too. in the spaces between. and sometimes, just in the spaces. i missed you, cape.
and summer ends
Post a Comment