o irrevocable river of things: no one can say that i loved only fish, or the plants of the jungle and the field, that i loved only those things that leap and climb, desire, and survive. it’s not true: many things conspired to tell me the whole story. not only did they touch me, or my hand touched them: they were so close that they were a part of my being, they were so alive with me that they lived half my life and will die half my death.
-pablo neruda
it's valentine's day, and muses are many on this side of the rain-splattered glazing; new spiderwebs & seedlings have sprouted in the studio. out in the windy night, bows are drawn back... match makers, scattering rosepetals and paving my way as i strive to unpave paradise. a contract! my heart for a contract, cupid!
Thank you Liesa, your musings are soft and mysterious, so sensual..
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