Ontario airport, 11:00pm

(because the deepest meanings we find in life occur in the briefest of moments and shortest of sentences...) 

She walked up and down the empty tiled corridors, her body and soul absorbing the reverberation of her footsteps--the only sign or recognition of her quiet existence.  

"Can we move to the UK...?"

trafalgar square, london 

september 2007

no....seriously.  Can we?

tbc...

My desire to connect with the world is great;
to open myself as a nourishing outpour,
a gentle soothing rain for the earth
so that others may partake of my fruit.

Yet I have no means or methods:
for I cannot paint the lilly pads
nor compose the secrets of man's hearts.

for wendy...

With windows down

I stick my face outside

to be flitted by the wind.

My hair trails behind me,

and I let one or two be stolen

so that a piece of me will fly away

to places I've never dreamed of,

and there I will be where I cannot. 

(there!)

I realized this simple yet fundamental fact about myself today:

I could never love a man--I mean, really love him--if he did not love Harry Potter first.  We would just be too incompatible.  

And I think if I was to choose someone to narrate my life, I pick Jim Dale ("the facts were these...").  

And that is that.