ofenchant's Diaryland Diary

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whatever

The babies are sleeping peacefully, their thick coats rustling softly in the breeze. I creep closer to see their bellies rise and fall so slowly, I have to check to see if they're still alive because they are so still, stretched out beside each other, until they move five minutes later, to a more perfect spot.

When I let them in, they bounce and crash, their tails wag violently and happily, they skid around the corner, looking for husband again, but the door is closed, so they come rushing back to knock me over and to ask for breakfast.

It is my Father's birthday today and he is angry that I am now 24 and don't do anything he tells me to.

This is the first birthday without his Mother.

He has something for me to sign.

Today is another day of work in gloomy weather. Everything seems so still and quiet on cloudy days. People in a hurry, let their minds drift far away.

I found this gorgeous place without a name, barely an entrance, tripping off through a dimly lit hallway with ferns into a perfect cluster of Indian material and camels, drapes curling softly around in the dance of smoke and silent music as people sat on cushions eating splendidly at coffee tables. And in the music: dusk setting, candles and low tables, cushions and daquiris, people being pulled through a gentle loop of chilled out perfection into wonderment amidst the velvet walls and fairy lights.

Is a name for nothing a waste of beauty?

There is no time for carefully reflecting on perfect thoughts of delicacy for the use of constructing glorious images in the now.

And stuff.

9:18 a.m. - 2007-01-02

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