My head feels a little heavy today and I would rather be in that park, sitting in silence, with just my thoughts, and the wind tickling my skin…and perhaps a few blank pages and a pen to write what is swirling around my head at the moment. The mind is a crazy place sometimes, filled with lots of rooms, stairs and sometimes trap doors. I feel like I’m sitting beneath a trap door at the moment in hiding, waiting for the storm to pass.
The ramblings of a woman who loved with a love that was more than love and lost. Liquid thoughts caught in a net and spread over pages in ink. Comments are most welcome, it means the world to me to hear a voice at the end of a 'like'.
Misseldr's inked paper. 