welcome May

Oh Hello, it's May don't you know?

Have I told you how much I love Autumn? I really really do. And I think it's one of the very best things about it already being May. I just can't get over how crazy fast this year is flying by.

This was such a beautiful morning...

just after the dawn service on ANZAC day.

saltwater

it's strange to have your salty tears wetting my cheek and stinging my skin. what does it mean to expose the back of a tapestry? to let the curtain rise before all is ready or to let the curtain fall just a little too late? to let the guts of you spill and bleed into me. this sadness. it is mine whenever it is yours.

a daydream

"... and a city like a forest, cool and quiet."

from Cradle to Cradle by William McDonough and Michael Braungart

by train

over the christmas holiday i travelled by train to christchurch. and later home again to wellington.

i think there is something beautiful about taking the train. it's quiet and noisey all at once. sometimes i slept as the train rattled along. i read, daydreamed and listened to the rain. i like to be alone and still surrounded by people and the landscape.

He walked across the length of every carriage looking for the most secluded seat. A disruptive minority of humankind regarded journeys, even short ones, as the occasion for pleasant encounters. There were people ready to inflict intimacies on strangers. Such travellers were to be avoided if you belonged to the majority for whom a journey was the occasion for silence, reflection, daydream. The requirements were simple: an unobstructed view of a changing landscape, however dull, and freedom from the breath of other passengers, their body warmth, sandwiches and limbs.


from The child in time by Ian McEwan

silence with you

remember when we lay down in the road together. holding hands. either side of the centre line with our heads just touching. watching the sky. a slight wind brushing across our faces. and we stayed. quietly. whispering. until we grew cold.

salt

No lips, don't make a sound

Don't let him hear the break in your voice

Hand, let go of his with ease and grace

Don't let him bleed under your nails

from Hold Heart by Emiliana Torrini

she was still as still.

This was because she knew few words and believed in none, and in the world she was rather silent, contributing just her share of urbane humor with a precision that approached meagerness. But at the moment when strangers tended to grow uncomfortable in the presence of this economy she would seize the topic and rush off with it, feverishly surprised with herself - then bring it back and relinquish it abruptly, almost timidly, like an obedient retriever, having been adequate and something more.


from Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald