drawing | {fishy} birthday

slow down, you crazy child...  i coveted that billy joel album and cover. i must've been in college at the time. i remember my american pen-pall cathy coming down from paris for the weekend, bringing terry. i visited them back later. {i don't know why i'm telling this.} slow down, that's it. slow down, and simply do one post on the weekend. good, girl {talking to myself}.

drawing | vein {or a thing about trees}

i read, and acted out on, THE ARTIST'S WAY, in the nineties. i remember loving every step of the way, and cursing those d*** morning pages. did it change my way to go about my creative perspectives and evolution? i doubt it. but to this day it does have a lingering effect on me. for that i'm grateful to the author, and to myself, for being persistent and consistent. in peaks and valleys.

corner view ≈ homemade

scrumptious little fruitcake, fresh from the oven. oh, and it is dead easy to make. all you need is a little time on your hands, but you can do plenty other things in the kitchen while you are making this cake. to find out about nigella's recipe... {jane's corner view, francesca's hosting, tera's theme.}

drawing | shoo! the february blues

february light by nature is sparse and should be swallowed by the buckets full on the few sunny days we’re getting. that's where you'll find me on sundrenched afternoons, when winter's days turn golden round the edges. 'cause, oh precious nature, resurfacing like a whale from marine darkness, tall like a shadow scooting about, in between barren trees... wait... a shadow? scooting?

.... that i'm feeling....(bob marley) |  jane's corner view, francesca's hosting, kari's theme

drawing | gala dinner

once upon a time there was a little boy, who sat listening to a story, told by miss agatha. miss agatha read from a big, big book, that hid half of her face. in fact, only her eyes were visible from above the rim of the book. the party of children listened to the story unfolding, but the boy, he listened most intensely. he waited. and waited some more, for he knew the moment would come. the moment when the words would roll from miss agatha's fiery red mouth {which remained well hidden}. that fine moment when he would become...

die fischefrauen's gala dinner. i wonder who'll be there? 

corner view ≈ poem

loose words become a poem. or not. i haven't written a poem for a long time. looking back upon my 2013 daily-poem-spell, i now understand its shortcomings : poetry needs reflection. a poem needs adjusting and digesting, before it may shine. i have a year's worth of revision lying in wait for my forgiving eye. jane's corner view, francesca's hosting, joanne & ibb's theme.