an image diary

"And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be? ... You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream! If that there King was to wake you'd go out -- bang! -- just like a candle!"

"Hush! You'll be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise."

"Well it's no use your talking about waking him when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

. .


Fighting off whatever bug Trystan and Sage have conjured. I feel it most in my eyes and in the small of my back. And I'm packing to leave. I'm off to the Texas border early Thursday. If you want to be in touch, do it before then. My cell doesn't work there, mama has no long distance, and the Internet is a thing of the town library, only. I won't emerge until New Year's Eve.


"and what is the use of a book...without pictures or conversations?"

[contact me:]

what o'clock it is


live flowers