let's get the seven lines. (bookshop) wrote,
let's get the seven lines.
bookshop
  • Mood: wistful
  • Music: "real world"
The back of my apartment looks out over this little gully of woods which is thick with foliage for half the year and barren the other half, but on this particular morning it's shrouded in a beautiful evocative blanket of mist, so thick you can't see the other side of the gorge so it looks as if the mist goes on and on forever, as if you've entered the mists of Avalon or had a scotland loch complete with fog and maybe a few covens or druids dumped in your back yard.

It's just perfect.

Today's the kind of day that makes me want to curl up in bed with a blanket and a cup of hot chocolate and write. It's the kind of day when I want to call all my friends and family and have long catch-up chats with them and tell them how much I love and miss them.

Am feeling a little wistful after a chat with hautemonde earlier about singing. Chats about singing make me wistful in general--not regretful, really; just wistful. And selfish, too--the diva in me wants my high e-flat back. Oh well. I can still sing "Vissi D'Arte" with the best of them, music degree be damned.

Maybe I'll finally be able to finish my chapter today. Maybe tomorrow I will wake up and the world will be right again. Maybe I will experience spiritual enlightenment and finally discover what it is I am meant to do with my sorry carcass. Maybe I will even get to see Harry Potter in the theatre again. white. a blank page or canvas. so many possibilities.
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