I have been slack at writing. Things are happening in my life. Good things. They're taking up my head space and making me grin while I swirl and whirl. Sometimes I stop and get scared and think I should run back into the cover, behind my barriers.
I spent the weekend in a cottage in a valley outside The City Beneath the Mountain, which was surrounded by mountains (I guess the valley bit gives that away), coloured in above with the bluest of blue, children's-drawing-clouds scudding by, and below, emerald green interspersed with purple fields of lavender. Idyllic. In the silence of the valley I hear the sound of another one of the millions of tiny knots that make up my barriers snap and fly off into the fresh air breeze, and I know this is a good thing and I must not run.
No, sirree, I must not run.
16 hours ago