Friday, September 25, 2009

chasing Picadilly.

mother's locked me into my room again. oak tree outside my open window, intruiging, as always on locked in Fridays. mother's beloved old Degas is gone and she wants to know where I've put it.

the air is buttery tonight. I'm lying across my bed with a bottle of Riesling - in love with hundreds of people and in love with life.

we'll return the painting within time
, says Catalena,
my greatest lover to date.

4 comments:

  1. that sounds mean. if i were you i would have climbed out of your room :)

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  2. i love this picture. and your blog is like an exiting poem. i like it :)

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