tinywoolf: January 2013

an ode ...

... to friends, to relatives, to family; gone, past and still here today. i'm not coming back yet, i'm taking stock. call this a good, old plain interlude. below is where i come from. {i'll admit, there're gaps}. where to... who knows. .. you could put this on in another window.

no words spent, no hovering this time. sentimental days are here in these digitalized {perhaps even unwanted} exposures, consider my enthusiasm a wayward tweet. {if you find yourself on a photo below, and you don't want it, send me a note.}

blog break{ing bad}

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i had every intention of making 2013 something worth its while. quiet, and genuine. and i don't think i will not not have it quiet and genuine. but this virtual business has mounted to my head in a bad way. i experience a severe lack of human contact, and while i still realise it, i want to share my frustration as a means of explanation, and then i want to lay low for a while. i need a break. i don't want any more commitments and i want to own the place again, rather than wallow. which is what i've been doing, inside.
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i'll miss the blog habit, i know that already. but i just, i need to hibernate. there's so much in this house, and privately, that needs attention and the strain is just, it's un-nice. i feel i'm faking it if i don't make a decision. i need to focus, and keep breathing. i'll miss all of you, dear readers. i will most probably switch on, from time to time, but i better not. i really need a clean break.
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i might just try and get hold of season four of the accidental meth heads, to keep my brains occupied, in between days. as if needed.
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tata ♥
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it's all in the moods

isn't it? it's all about how you feel, and when you feel it. the weather gods lend a hand or plain sabotage. they do the latter today, what with this gluey rain, but they've been okay on a number of occasions.

yet. loads of coffees and teas are being consumed, especially since hammer head set in as well, in the form of a january cold. january colds are the worst, because one isn't ready. then again, is one ever ready?

the brussels lace and costume museum closed an exhibition on 18th century corsets & co, on the last day of the previous year, and as i turned the corner of violet street, my eye caught the sight of a remembrance plaque, in honour of the poet verlaine. well, in honour. verlaine shot rimbaud on that spot, in 1873.

imagine. history on, let's face it, every street corner!
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on how many stacked tomb stones do we live these days anyway?
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which possibly {in}famous creature tickles your toes at night? ☻

hello 2013

"may the blank book for this new year

be filled with the names of

all the people you love"

words spoken by conductor dessislava stefanova (left) at the end of a concert, given by the london bulgarian choir, at the national gallery on dec 14th, 2012 in london, uk. i cried at the sound of this music. i cried tears of pure joy. *h*a*p*p*y*n*e*w*y*e*a*r*