Friday, November 26, 2010
Yesterday Zee, Mishka, Mammy and I did some gardening. It was swell, but very hard. I pulled up a clump of weeds so large that it took up half the dirt in the garden with it.
Today Zee, Mishka and I went on an hour long walk. It was lovely to be outside looking at all the lovely flowers the neighbourhood had to offer. As we walked up the hill next to the old factory we almost collapsed in exhaustion. The old buildings are so beautiful, its a shame there is no-one to take care of them and stop the windows from being broken. I would like to live in there, open plan style with all those windows. It would be grand.
Now I am home, it is a lovely spring evening and the birds are tweeting yonder, my hair is wet and making puddles on the floor.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Wilber stood behind the glass window with an indifferent facial expression, his hot cocoa forming steam streaks on the glass panes. He shifted his weight, rocking from heel to toe as his small russet coloured sausage dog, Alfredo, lingered around his worn in boat shoes.
The small cottage nestled in the heart of the city seemed odd in its squatness as the bland grey buildings stretched up towards the sky that seemed so full of life and wonder.
The rooms of the cottage smelled of off-set printing, paper and tea-leaves. A sense of love oozed from the interior walls of the cottage. Photographs of people - appearing as if they were filled with joy and surrounded by others whom they loved - sprawled across almost every wall. Each wall that wasn't covered in these delighted faces was filled from floor to ceiling with an array of books from every imaginable encyclopedia to the literary classics of Charlotte Brontë and Tolstoy.
Wilber ventured out of his house rarely, only for the bare necessities and even then he tried to stretch the time between each outing as far apart as possible. In the outside environment he felt as though the world was spinning slightly too fast on its axis, as if everything around him and himself could become un-hinged in a second.
As he stepped onto the footpath his heartbeat would speed up, a small pearl of perspiration would glide from his hairline, down the smooth wrinkles of his forehead to his furrowed brow.
In a swarm of people Wilber felt alone. He couldn't control his senses and instincts. His elevated stress levels did not decline in any sense until his little cottage was in view. Even then every step between him and his front door seemed to large.
As Wilber shut the heavy wooden door behind him and turned to see the ever anticipated comfort of his home, his breathing slowed. He closed his eyes and absorbed the familiar scents of everything he loved. Everything he needed. His muscles loosened as a sense of safety reigned over him.
His paralysing state of affinity was disturbed only when Alfedo glided past his calves and slumped at his feet, welcoming his closest companion back into their sanctuary.
This is where Wilber belonged, with the familiarity of his well kept books, his noble friend and his tired and treasured possessions. Wilber doesn't need the distractions of loud strangers or the buzz of morning coffee. He only needs the things he loves, for there with Alfredo and his books, he is whole.
Image via Weheartit.
Note: this is no way to treat books. Paper has a longer memory than elephants.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
I can not wait to see Two Door Cinema Club with Lella. What a pip!
On another note, today as I was doing some gardening I heard what sounded like at least two people, so I did my usual thing and hid behind the hedges while they passed. As I was hiding the noise got closer but there was only one set of footsteps. So it turned out that it had only been one woman singing to herself. It made me chuckle and then I carried on chopping the hedges. Now I have a shaky hand because my muscles have gone into shock. I like gardening.
Monday, November 1, 2010
there are eight days until the beginning of my summer, one exam, one and a half hours. So at the end of all of this I shall try to complete my patchwork quilt and start my summer reading list. So far the list is pretty long and I don't think I will be able to get through it but I will try. Thus far this is what is on it:
1. War and Peace, Tolstoy
2. The Harry Potter series
3. The Old Man and the Sea, Hemingway
4. Tender is the Night, F. Scott Fitzgerald
5. The Bronze Horseman, Simons ( I'm halfway through already, so hopefully this one will be quite quick)
The list grows everyday but I know that I'm going to start with War and Peace and see how far I can get. Oh summer how I love your keen rays and bright light.
Image via turquoisekeytomyheart.