There’s a deep hush now, on my exit.All that’s left is the faint raspingof trombone slides and music stands,the rustling of a breathless orchestra under our feetThe house lights dim to twilightand the velvet curtain skims the stagewhile stage-hands dressed in shadowssilently dismantle the scene.I am winded in the wings.The buzzing inside my head is … Continue reading Paris, 1867
Too many of my days pass in dry blinks and blurred moments between phone calls, text messages, and the never-ending flash of a notification to remind me of one-more-thing To Do before I can be Done. I burn, I pine, I perish-- for when I was young and blonde and had yet to carve the wrinkles … Continue reading April 10 : On Adulthood
It's said that the circumstances of birth-- the day, the music, the time, even the particular position of the stars far above our heads, leave fingerprints on our newly blossomed souls. When we open our mouths to gulp that first taste of air-- so sterile and electric, Leto swaddles us in a blanket woven by … Continue reading April 1 : Welcome
Typewriter Moon 