Sunday, 1 November 2015

Dear November...

To start this month in a cosy apartment over-looking the culture of Florence isn't too shabby.

I hope it to be a sign of a strong month.

I can see that you will move swiftly, November.
And it seems all my new beginnings are arriving at once.

Ficus is a necessity here.
Focus and confidence.

Getting back in to the swing of it all could prove tricky.
I can see now that I'm ready.

November, you begin in Florence, and that's grand.

I hope you end somewhere just as bright.

Thursday, 22 October 2015

An Air Of Mystery

I'd be lying if I said panic hadn't set in by the fifth day.

The fifth day of silence and discomfort.
The fifth day of the sun casting auburn highlights across the clouds.

The cold is setting in, with an uneasy breeze.


It's important I document this. Though it's slightly uncomfortable and my heart aches. It is important.

It's important because it's a lesson. And (I hope) I have learnt from it.

What a strange situation to arise at this time in my life.

By now, I am aware of the warning signs. 
A lack of creativity. A sense of abandonment. 
And becoming isolated in a little bubble. And often, I forget bubbles are fragile.

It's fantastic to shelter myself in metaphors. It's brilliant to hide in mysterious words and quiet thoughts.
It comes at a detriment, to the safety of my bubble.

To never specify saves me, my dignity and my sanity.
(Though I'm not too sure what's left of the three).

If you asked me how I knew, I'd say, "I'm lucky to see my neurotic side, even through the greyest of clouds. And I'm lucky to recognise the stabbing pain that sprints through my veins at the first sight of trouble."

And if you read this as I do, and am doing at this moment, you've most likely realised there is no conclusion.
There seems to be no middle or end either.

That's because it doesn't end.
My thoughts don't end. My small epiphanies (usually found whilst pursuing the supermarket) rarely cease.
And my learning, well, that will always run faster than I can.

Sunday, 18 October 2015

A Microscopic Differential

It was a hilarious tragedy by all accounts.

A jumbled mess upon the mind. A sporadic array of circles across the arms and legs of a brave woman.

A knock of confidence and a burst of the new.

Good things tend to arrive in threes. It all happened suddenly, without notice. 
What a brave affair it was. What a happy notion it became.

A soft nudge came not long after a bout of fear. 

Cross them off your list. Turn a blind eye to the catastrophic plan. Designed and directed.

"You'll say, 'thank you, for common sense and sharp wit.'"

And still, it was a hilarious tragedy by all accounts.

Tuesday, 6 October 2015

The Lights Are Low

And it was a peaceful end to a brave day.

Sat by an open window,
rain hurling itself at the ground.
The sky erupting with chaos.

Resting, with ease.
passing by.

None the wiser
to any previous distress.

Sunday, 27 September 2015


It's cold. And silly me is sat outside.

I'm writing outside today, with my notebook perched on crossed legs and my pen soon to run dry because I'm hoping to write about the sky and what it may hold.

12 isn't too cold, but I feel my body is still acclimatised to the warmth of a summer spent in Italy.

I yearn for it. 
To do it all over again. 
Longer days and warmer nights. 
Anonymity when I needed it. 
An array of wine just waiting to be picked from the shelves before my eyes. 

The blue sky that roofs my troubled head speaks otherwise. It shines a soft turquoise, reminding me that winter beckons.

There are ripe, dark clouds balancing above. Fiercely mastering the tango between one another.
Prompt and ready to erupt. 
They howl the warning of a storm. On land. Over sea. And in my mind.

I sense there's difficulty to come.
As the storm roars around me calmness will be key.
And patience is a necessity. Patience that runs through my veins can't be left short.

When the evening arrives, I must remember that it is the devil's hour. And he will reek havoc.
I have to wait until morning to reveal myself again. I will wait until morning to observe and participate amongst the sky once more.

And so it will start again.
Watching and waiting, with patience, as the sky dances around me. 

Thursday, 3 September 2015

A Feared Entry

"I've learnt some important lessons this week.

- If you don't hold energy, be calm.
- Absorb before you react.
- Whisky and coke is not nice.
- Free ice cream tastes amazing.
- Letting go of people that damage your presence is a good thing.
- You won't always get 100% from everyone.

In truth, I realise they sound like fairly obvious life lessons. But this week, they took me by surprise.

By the middle of the week, I couldn't see past my own bubble.
And that felt lousy.

I was show that often I expect too much and become blind to my own efforts.

Without warning, I became lost in other's success and my own self-perceived inadequacy.

Towards Friday, I over shared my own stories after too much rum and felt a heavy pang of regret the next. I was encased in my own naivety and thus, sought consolidation in too many cups of coffee.  
It all became a little tragic.

However now, after much self-criticism, I'm letting this sea of crazy wash by. I'm watching as the tide rolls out.

I'm currently en route to a close friend's new venture. A place he's finally thought highly of. He's doing better now, he's successful in his own right, and will continue to be.
And that, makes me more proud than anything.

I won't be scared of other's success. I'll embrace it.

And hope these successes bring me more free ice cream.

It feels good to write freely again."

Tuesday, 1 September 2015

Dear September...

You've been a long time coming.

And I'm glad you're here.

September, you bring brisker mornings and auburn tinted leaves. 
It's the start of a new season.

For you. And for me.

Wednesday, 5 August 2015

Dear August...

I owe you an apology.

This letter has arrived five days late. Much like my sanity.

Somewhere between writing and taking mountains of photographs I 'forgot' about you. I say 'forgot', but I'm trying to insinuate that a great wave of guilt washed over me and I couldn't face you - that, and I've been napping a lot recently.

Despite my lateness (and audacity) I hope you'll be kind. I hope you'll be gentle and not bring as many emotional expenses as your brother before.
Please allow me to travel softly, love with all my might and keep creativity running through my veins.

Sorry, August. I'll be better next year.

Sunday, 26 July 2015

A Poem For Today | 16

Body Piece

Stand in the evening light until you
become transparent or until you fall

- Yoko Ono

Sunday, 19 July 2015

Where I Begin

It's Sunday. I'm sitting here on my sofa, after a strange and scary week.

The house is still sleeping, and I'm enjoying the gentle silence of the morning.

This is my favourite time of the day. Whenever possible I like to take the morning to myself. To ease in to the day. To feel some sort of calm just before the hustle and bustle begins.

And it's strange, my Mum does the same. She likes to give herself an hour before everyone else needs to be at work or school. She lets the dogs enjoy the morning air and sets the scent of coffee through the house.

So I sit. And I think of what brings me happiness. What makes my head stroll instead of sprint.

There have been seasons in my life where I haven't felt happy. Now, with a clearer head, I can see when it was hormones or a chemical imbalance. And I can now see when maybe it was a choice. I chose to do things or be around things and people that didn't add to the goodness of my life. Often, I would do the same things over and over, all the while saying "why isn't this working?" and expecting things to change.

I can be a little stubborn like that.

It makes me think of my cousin. When tears fell from her eyes and her crayons were laying broken on the floor, I asked "what would make you happy right now?"
"I want to play!"
And that's what we did, because it brought happiness.

That moment made me understand.

It's a long road this happiness thing. And life isn't so simple when you're really in it, but sometimes when you take a big enough step away, it can feel that way.

The birds outside are beginning to stir and my quiet morning is coming to an end.
But today, I will work on my wholeness and my happiness. Today I'll ask myself  'what would make you feel happy?'

And that's where I will begin.