creative ramblings & reverie

Friday, December 23, 2011

Writing Spaces

Writing Christmas cards.  Writing always fraught with whatever the year has given or taken.

Clearing the deck—or desk—for Janus, god of beginnings and ends, passages of whatever sort.  Looking behind; looking ahead.  Writing on the threshold of two years, in that shivery liminal space smelling of old woodsmoke and cardamom where everything again for just a night or two seems possible.

image:  While I was writing Christmas cards, Blue Is Bleu

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