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the moon, like to a silver bow.
06 July 2009 @ 09:10 pm








I had a dream that I was lost in a library; it had spiral staircases and tiny ladders with goblins wearing spectacles, they were dusting the highest shelves. I sat in a big red velvet armchair reading every book that I could find about myths and tales, until the guard told me that it was closing time, “don’t you have a home to go to miss?”, I yawned sleepily and glanced at the big grandfather clock, it was two minutes to ten.
I am not a believer in hope but it sometimes comes in wisps and strays, I am going to begin a pebble jar, just like Stargirl, and maybe one day it will become full of mermaid tear pebbles.

I want to see Paris lit up at night time, sit with my sketchbook in the Musée du Louvre, and take photographs of the Eiffel Tower, see Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens, dance under the moon and constellations at Stonehenge, stay up all night at a music festival in a far away country, sing in a band, but I think I am much too shy, and there is no room in his band for a girl, leave sweet words for strangers sat on lonely park benches, go and see the The Nutcracker and take ballet lessons too, I used to dance when I was five, I think most little girls did, and Swan Lake and La Bayadère at the Royal Opera House, I think I would cry over how beautiful they both are, find an old music box and suitcases, and my very own Pan god, I will be your nymph, I promise.
Visit Glastonbury with its pretty bookshops, and abbey and gardens, make my hair the colour of the palest moons, kiss boys with smudged eye liner and tattoos and muscled arms, and buy that copy of East of the Sun, West of the Moon, with illustrations by Kay Nielsen, that I have always wanted, and my best friend and I will travel to London in September and dress as Viking girls for the band, and look around art universities. I want to take the bus to Portobello road and buy vintage black lace and antique books, and this year I will move away from home, share a tiny house with a few girls or boys, and we will have so many lovely days, and if we feel sad, we will watch Picnic at Hanging Rock, Girl, Interrupted and the Virgin Suicides, and old horror films too, we can hide our hearts for just one day, and tomorrow when the sun wakes up I will go for a walk with my camera on the lonely five a m roads.

 
 
the moon, like to a silver bow.
30 June 2009 @ 03:51 pm












 )
 
 
the moon, like to a silver bow.
08 May 2009 @ 08:49 pm















Today is flora day, a celebration of light, fertility and life, I wanted to go and dance in the streets but ma was a little too busy to take me, so I bought flowers, wore a long dress and sat in the garden amongst the daisies, listening to the birds.
We found an abandoned magpie nest, it really had been discarded, but it is so beautiful, I think I will make an installation, cover it with tiny lights, and flowers, before the wind takes it away.


 )
 
 
the moon, like to a silver bow.
22 March 2009 @ 08:41 pm













I am free, a hummingbird, delicate and iridescent. Spring makes me feel happier, watching the world become whole again, alive. Daffodils, and irises and daisies, reading books in the long grass.


 )
 
 
the moon, like to a silver bow.
14 February 2009 @ 06:48 pm







To all of the tiny hearts in this world [look after them].


 )
 
 
the moon, like to a silver bow.
07 February 2009 @ 10:42 pm







A faraway narnian land.


 )


Julian and I went on a long bus ride to the seaside today, I wanted to collect shells from the shore to send with my letters, but the tide was in too far. The waves were washing foam and tangled seaweed on to the cobbled streets. It was so quiet, and cold, there are many sweet shops and cafe's and seafood restaurants, toy shops and art galleries and shops selling handmade purses, flowers and cards.
A ghostly curse fell over the fishing town, I am going to write a story about this. The mermaid from the pier bestowed a curse upon the town in the bleak winter months.

 
 
the moon, like to a silver bow.
23 January 2009 @ 09:06 pm









[i have missed you]


 )
 
 
the moon, like to a silver bow.
18 November 2008 @ 08:39 pm










Tuesday’s are sometimes magical. I went to the woods with my mother, things between us are happier now. I fed the squirrels, with tiny nuts from my pockets, one of them bit my mother’s finger, it wasn’t as tame as the others near the lake. I counted eleven swans on the lake, and four cygnets, the gulls were making an awful racket. There is a part of the woods where the rooks live, and it’s quite frightening when you walk past all of the tangled trees, you can feel their dark eyes on you, but they are beautiful birds. We were trying to find mushrooms, but they must like the very damp areas, and it was impossible to see beyond the blanket of leaves. It is so quiet there; I think I would feel at home sleeping under the trees, with the big ebony birds as my guardians.


 )
 
 
the moon, like to a silver bow.
11 November 2008 @ 10:43 pm

I have been living in a cocoon for a few short weeks, wanting to sleep away the time, peaceful and eerie dreams, about tooth fairies with nasty sharp teeth stealing locks of hair from children, and baby dragons found in cereal boxes. Watching videos by the Cure, and reading.. Once upon a time in the north, Lyra’s Oxford, The Spiderwick chronicles, Encyclopedias of wild animals, moths and butterflies. My head is buried in the newest book by Neil Gaiman, he is very wonderful, I am reading it before bed, when my eyelids are heavy.
I am wishing to illustrate a book soon, my fingers are crossed, hoping that the author is going ahead with his writings and that perhaps he will ask me. I recently made a little poster for his poetry class, that he put up around the school he works in.


I have courage today, but yesterday was a lonely day. I am trying not to feel so overwhelmed.





 )
 
 
the moon, like to a silver bow.
16 October 2008 @ 04:42 pm





I am in the forest picking blackberries, staining my fingers purple and red, like tiny bruises. I have strayed much too far from the path and the afternoon sun is gradually ebbing behind a grey storm cloud. I perch on a tree stump where insects are attached to the sap, seeping from the cracks.
Rooks call to one another, hidden within the safety of branches, haunting caws echo through the arched tunnel of elder and birch trees. I see something white in the distance, a plastic carrier bag discarded carelessly... no, a small head of fur. The cloud like shape emerges from a hole and turns to face me with piercing ruby coloured eyes. Rabbit... before I can consider how strange it all seems, two more follow the first out of the burrow.
I fumble in my satchel for the camera and capture the rabbits before they disappear, and I start to follow them, through the undergrowth, snagging my hair on tangled thorn branches. Fallen autumn leaves and twigs crunch and snap under foot, however I can see a clearing ahead, paved with stone. I hide behind a sheltering tree, and watch as the rabbits pause, their downy fur disappears until they no longer resemble animals.
Three sprites take their place, dressed in leaves, brown fur and delicate flower hats. They carry long twigs and acorn cups filled with nectar. Before I can blink twice, the tiny forest creatures scurry into an old oak tree, a great portal to another realm...

 
 
 
 

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