In the middle of February, I walked through the village, taking a path I've travelled many times, but seeing the new. I think that might be one of my favourite things about life. Finding the seemingly new in the old or familiar. It was an unexpectedly sunny morning, and something shone silver on my left. It looked like a silver foil horse. I crossed the road, and discovered a horse I had never seen before in a field of snowdrops I had never noticed before.
He was behind bars, which might account for it. He is the Hanover Horse…
I've no idea why he lives there or who planted him there, but this is his view for a few weeks in February…
Further on, I stopped to greet my precious friend Victoria, who just happened to be outside her front door on her way out to her sewing class. "Come quickly and see my snowdrops and daffodils!" she tempted, so I did…
And later, walking with Angelina and the twins, I looked up and saw this…
All that remained was something of summer, and the phone box provided me with that…
Is there anything more summery than cricket? Well, not for my father anyway…
And the last of the lovely things is this… my Masters dissertation, comb bound and handed in!
Ink runs from the corners of my mouth. There is no happiness like mine. I have been eating poetry.
Reading Naomi Shihab Nye
Before you know what kindness really is, you must lose things, feel the future dissolve in a moment, like salt in a weakened broth.What you held in your hand, what you counted and carefully saved, all this must go so you know how desolate the landscape can be between the regions of kindness.
in pursuit of a room of my own...
There was a star riding through clouds one night, and I said to the star, 'Consume me.' - Virginia Woolf
the war of art
The warrior and the artist live by the same code of necessity, which dictates that the battle must be fought anew every day.
Have you heard of Somaly Mam? She is Cambodian, survived slavery, and transforms the lives of young girls every moment she lives and breathes.
I keep my guru in my heart, and Gandhi in my head.
Tenzin Tsundue is a Tibetan poet and activist, currently residing in exile, in Dharamsala.
Strengthened by Frida Kahlo
“I leave you my portrait so that you will have my presence all the days and nights that I am away from you.”
Une Envie de Sel
The Unbearable Lightness of being Q... and her family by Maia Chavez Larkin
On Wu Feng Road
Blog Like No One's Reading
Agnes'_Pages_, one of my favourite places to travel.
it is only with the heart that one can see rightly
What is essential is invisible to the eye
Dr Karen Woo, the softly spoken British humanitarian aid worker, who was killed in Afghanistan last year. She was a dancer for years before realising she could not truly help be a changemaker through ballet.
In Shaista's Library
A Year With Rilke
Daily readings of the maestro, by Ruth and Lorenzo...
A place I draw inspiration from. My happy place :)