Why do the white gulls call?

--
* Annie Lennox, Into the West

For someone who leaves thoughts unfinished, for someone who has a blog she calls Unfini, she gets remarkably antsy about unfinished conversations

She also likes speaking of herself in third person.

I found a lovely place for my Daffodil Day* pin

#who needs that thumb tack?

--
* https://daffodilday.com.au/

Ooh, 100 posts! Take 2

Yayz!

Live life with my arms reached out. Eye to eye when speaking. Enter rooms with great joy shouts. Happy to be meeting. Bright as yellow. Warm as yellow. *

#cautious hope

--
*The Innocence Mission.

Ze aussies 'ere like to call the afternoon arvo

And I wonder why find it a tongue twister.

A glutton for hugs, that's what I am.

Really big hugs.

I think I like Regulus Black.

His middle name is my favourite star, see? 

A man in a Derby hat and a shiny black shirt with shiny, black-striped red fire. And a shiny briefcase. And getting off Epsom road.

Hmm...

I am usually not given to such sweeping generalities...

But I may have the best supervisors in the world for my masters thesis.
(I am certainly very fortunate to have them.)

Tis insanely hard to get off of beanbags

They're quicksand, pulling me back inside them

Boo.

So I passed by this gentleman in a great black coat whistling his way down a narrow alley

And I wondered if I was in a story. ( He's plotting something, ain't he?)

A platter of delicious, toe-curling little secrets.

All mine.

Pudding.

Because you can never have enough of saying the word. (Or eating it.)

Ooh, 100 posts!

Whoops. Including 13 drafts.

#Will have to wait a little longer for the magical 100th.
#Already know the title of the 100th.

How does it feel

To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone ?*

Like this.

--

*Bob Dylan.

And I'm a million different people from one day to the next

* Bittersweet Symphony, by The Verve

Tis strange that I write in the same voice as I did two years ago;

I feel nothing like the girl I was then.

May Kasahara

If I started the book because I took a shine to its name (The Wind-up Bird Chronicle), I stayed because I took a shine to May Kasahara. 

Knoll.

#Nitzi's word of the day
--
Of the month, actually. I have not really had much occasion to use it, but I think it very pretty.

Happy birthday, to someone very special

And apologies, for not keeping in touch. To her, and everyone else I've left behind.

Lenses #12

There's something very honest, very real about J that I fancy he does not quite belong to this world.

Lenses #11

Under all that boundless enthusiasm and quiet intelligence, T gives me a warm sense of being cared for.

I want to write like Sylvia Plath.

Stark. And unafraid.

Now far ahead the road has gone, and I must follow if I can

*The Road goes ever on and on

And Time, infinite, seems to be slipping away

And who can say when the day sleeps
If the night keeps all your heart

*Enya. Only Time.