The nature of reality
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Freud
I’m about to sit down and snuggle with one of my Christmas presents. It is a book by Sigmund Freud called ‘The Interpretation of Dreams.’ I’d imagine it will hand me another key to my perception of reality, which I’m… Continue reading
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Truth
I am drinking night-time tea, writing, as if to write to a lover of feelings yet to be spoken. I’ve been in the garden today. I sometimes wish my Nan was still alive so I could ask her: ‘Is this… Continue reading
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Messy Life
There is no need to be afraid of the not good enough. This weakness you perceive, this pathetic softness you scold yourself for compared to she who declares herself strong. Close your eyes. Breathe and know this. You are perfection… Continue reading
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The Sound Of Silence
How lovely it was to call the darkness an old friend. The darkness inside, the darkness outside. Did they even know it was both of which they spoke? A Neon God was made so beautifully to shine light for all… Continue reading
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Call Me Shakespeare
Oh! Has this truth been truly seen! But a glimpse into a floating sea of strange reality, but a knowing truer than true can be! Who is Shakespeare? That terrible, desperate soul, falling, falling, landing evermore in the stories of… Continue reading
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Words Are Not BIG Enough
The room glowed orange. And LOVE. A wooden carving of the word sat against the wall in my room, opposite my meditation cushion, on top of a painting of my favourite tree (the letters light up if I really want… Continue reading
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Reality. And How There is No Such Thing.
≈ I send a text message to a friend: a message that warms my heart because I’ve said something that fills me with all the lovely things. In my mind, I see my friend receive the text message. She smiles.… Continue reading
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