You Can Write

The lamp in my living room just turned on and brings light - so I can see what I couldn't see before. It manifests something material, not as an idea but as something actual. So up to now, what was in my head is what can be seen - so it was a thinking eye. So what the artists saw at the Riviera when the light hit them as colour manifested as the explosion into Modern Art - that which is seen - not as imagination but as real as the lamp in front of me. What is it that this brings - because what I see has already been there before. What is the space between the two and what is this about...Does the lamp know what it is doing? Will it talk about it in lamp language. Why not - it is here, and so am I, so it…

I am Lola. I enjoy unusual experiences. This is what I know. I am told by others that I am a feather. Before I fell out of the sky

into the ground where you found me, I was flying happily with my bird owner. I was a part of her, and she was a part of me. I felt the brush of the wind, the touch of the sun, and the moisture of the water touching me. Suddenly, there was a detachment, and I became myself,

only me, flying through the skies until I landed on the ground. Then I became part of the ground. This was interesting. I did not fly anymore. I lay still with the earth and felt the vibration of the earth. The air was still around me. I had the rain fall on me.

I was stuck in one place until you found me and…

The Keeper of the Heart

When she was small, she used to talk to the shadows. Not the frightening kind the soft ones that gathered in warm corners, near dusty windows, under quiet beds. One of them listened.

He was small, stooped, and thin as a sapling, with pointy ears and bare feet wrapped in moss. His bald head gleamed under moonlight, and his only possession was a wooden pencil etched with curling runes that seemed to hum with secrets. He never told her his name, but he kept something for her: a small, glowing heart.

“I’ll guard it until you’re ready,” he whispered one night, placing it gently in a hollow of light and leaf. “But you must promise to return for it.”

Years passed, as they do. The girl grew tall, then tired. She forgot the sound of the moss and the kindness of the fireflies. The world…