The sky outside is grey, occasionally tumbling down raindrops on our humble human heads. I’m dreaming of whimsical prose and conversations with mystic people, like William Blake. Imagine meeting William Blake, and even better, sharing afternoon tea with him. What stories he would have to tell over earl grey tea and coconut macaroons.
And Ballet flats. I’m dreaming of the perfect pair. And I think I may have found them; Bloch. Their soles are flexible yet sturdier than Salvios. I like the black and white two-tone shoe (very Chanel). I also like them in plain old navy.
And finally, I am contemplating love and its impermanence. Carrying on loving when you can see the end in sight. Forbidden love. Emotional love. Erotic love. Unrequited love. Love comes in so many forms. Me, I love to love love, in its all its species. It trumps every other emotion in my opinion.
Grey, melancholy days always make me think.
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