Just To Observe
etenish
Day 161. Captive imagination, the manifestation of vague longing.
agowilt
Day 160. Chaos shapes the spirit. I open my eyes to the scent of fresh camel scat.
cartref
Day 159. Are dreams any more shocking than what we witness in the waking world?
nemophilist
Day 158. I wonder at the quiet effort of it all.
henopoeia
Day 157. Atlantic eyes lined with gold and copper wink-wink-wink.
galabia
Day 156. There was no other choice; only alternatives to what they all felt must be done.
croodle
Day 155. The Decorum of Daughters.
dwale
Day 154. A dozen flies have gathered on my table. They are worse dining guests than the little spotted cat who joined me for eggs.
arcadian
Day 153. The cat is small and starving, like all the hearts placed upon the counter.
rantipole
Day 152. It’s been raining for days within the privacy of my orange and rose boudoir.
scripturient
Day 151. Clack-clack-clack went her palms at the water. I kept waiting for a spark.
acatalepsy
Day 150. The past is young-blooded and broken by the shards of memory used like kitchen knives.
alethiology
Day 149. I’ve hidden in hieroglyphs—in blotted ink and iris—for decades.
velleitie
Day 148. She fights for her independence with orange lipstick and rings as thick as a knuckle.
morosis
Day 147. A container for dread. Something to empty over the rubbish bin with the flick of a wrist.
sirimiri
Day 146. Eyes like jade with a tail that sweeps fear to the underside of the stone where the barnacles feed.
derive
Day 145. To be a great writer is to crack open the metaphor.
peripeteia
Day 144. A part of my heart sprang to life in this brash and boastful city.
galere
Day 143. the hunt is a slippery, dangerous thing.
vagary
Day 142. rotting plants, excrement, blood, and sweat; the filth is the nectar that nourishes.