First day of rain. Monday off. Woke up. Wide eyed and ready for nothing. 5am. Kissed my love. Crept out of bed… tip of the toe-ing down the steel spiral case. Sheer gown and boots, collecting kindling in that first rain stench of heaven. Kettle on… wood speaking that perfect hiss, pop, sizzle. Exhaling every breath deeply, naturally. James, Carly, Crosby and Nash. Dylan was here too… usually is… speaking his reasons of rhymes unobtrusively… “A person is a success if they get up in the morning and gets to bed at night and in between does what he wants to do.”Rockin’ slow on our little creaky rocker. Today… today I am thoroughly content with stillness and ease. Happy Monday to you all.
Xx love from San Francisco
Amy
oh mAaAN! I'm loving all these images, could live n all of 'em. mmmm-ahhh. (miss you!!!!!!)
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I just love the way you write. I can feel and picture the moments.I could live in that first house and have a work studio in that glass green house and listen to Bob Dylan, Carley Simon and James Taylor every morn. Heaven! XXValerie
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The poem is really simple and sweet. The pictures were moving. A great collection I would say. I belive they are not from your house. And I liked spcially the last picture of a hand-written letter. It was moving. I can feel the agression in the words, all due to poor economy. Don't know when the days will change.
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