I wish I had written this earlier without the gift of hindsight so that my memory of this song would remain unaltered in text form. I sometimes think maybe the reason I take it so personally that he can’t stay awake these days is because of how we met. On our first encounter, we talked
Little over a week ago, this is where we were, frolicking in the sea, tumbling in the sand and spluttering out salt. This is where we were, when we befriended seagulls that stalked us to our two-night-home and learnt that pseudo high-jumping onto sand dunes was difficult if the sand was soft underfoot. This is
Thank you, for all your kind words. It’s definitely helped a little, towards feeling somewhat less isolated. I’ve been quiet for a week, joined at the hip to the boy, ever since his last exam last Tuesday. We’ve done so much (and arguably very little…) this past week, I simply don’t know where the time
I don’t know where my mind is. At all. In the past two weeks of freedom, I have started three draft blog posts (none of which saw the light of day), finished reading Atlas Shrugged, Less Than Zero and Snuff, and painted my new-2nd-hand dressing table which I bought off a friend last month. So
PORTISHEAD IS COMING TO NEW ZEALAND!!! And I think I am going to cry/die a slow and painful (but beautifully painful) emotional death when I hear them on November 10th. This Friday, 9am, I know where I’ll be – logged on, buying 2x tickets to guarantee the boy and I a sentimentally-charged evening in three