Tessa & a Rather Small USPS Priority Mail Box
a love story in photos
She’s been in there practically nonstop for a week.
She’s never going to let me recycle that box.
flax-golden
flax-golden tales: tiny cathedrals
tiny cathedrals
I will build tiny cathedrals in your name.
Constructing each by hand to be certain that their foundations are sound.
Time may weather them.
It will not matter.
If one falls, I will build another to replace it.
And another and another and another.
At night, I will illuminate them so they may shine like beacons in the darkness.
I shall write you hymns and sing your praises to the leaves, so they can remember.
And carry the thought of you within their veins.
They will spread like gospel when the autumn winds come.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.
miscellany
in lieu of content
I am so deep in Revisionland it’s absurd. I am attempting to finish this draft by the end of the month, which is reasonable, but means the rest of the month is going to be very busy.
Like, I might not read Mockingjay until a week after it comes out busy. I know.
So in lieu of actual blog content this week, here is a photograph of a pomegranate.
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flax-golden tales: mightier than the sword
mightier than the sword
There is a movement happening, a quiet one.
A low-profile, low-resolution revolution.
Comprised of writers and dreamers, of guerrilla artists and thought-ninjas.
Those with something to say.
They communicate through text inscribed on true public spaces, rather than blogs and forums.
Choosing fewer words, even without being bound by 140 character limits.
Using ink instead of pixels.
Sending messages in living, breathing space.
Pens scream louder into the void.
Even if permanent ink is not aptly named.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.
miscellany
5 things for august 5th
- Nathan Bransford’s post on “Lost” and the High Narrative Price of WTF. Nails a lot of my lingering LOST issues.
- My new Droid Incredible is my friend. My fancypants friend who confuses me with all its skillz & I’m still learning to type on properly, but I love love love having a phone that does more than make phone calls. Not that I can do much more than make phone calls and tweet on it right now.
- I am officially sick of summer and it can be glorious, glorious autumn any time now. Seriously. This humidity can die. The kitten flop-o-meter was off the charts today.
- I am, as you probably guessed, still deep in Revisionland. Like, Inception-style multi-level deep. It’s going really, really well, but there’s still a good long ways to go.
- I love when, in the midst of researching, I find historical things that walked right out of my imagination, like this House of Worth evening gown, circa 1898-1900.
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flax-golden tales: back in the day
back in the day
My grandmother tells me stories about the way things were when she was young.
Mostly they’re about all the things that I have that she didn’t have, or how things were different. How big the computers were and how phones had wires.
Sometimes she tells stories that her grandmother told her.
Her grandmother lived in a house with a yard. A yard is like a private park, I think.
I wonder what these things looked like, sometimes. I’ve seen pictures, but they’re not the same. I wonder what it would be like to look out a window and see poles and wires that connect conversations.
To see the sunset and the clouds.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.