Cloak(s) and Dagger(s)

I've been reading the words of Colette today, Earthly Paradise. A treat handed to me by the most favored of hands, these days. I am preparing for the next week, which will include the shadowed and curled arm of the forest, water, light, dirt, books, eight wonderful creatures, and time. 

[Admittedly, I've made believable excuses as to where I will be to some. "A cabin." "Some friends." Things of this nature. For now, I need only to focus on what lies ahead, as opposed to describing and explaining something that hasn't occurred yet.  For me, somehow, it risks the syringing of magic from its veins.  No. No, indeed. Stories are better told afterwards, after all, are they not?]

I am sprawled upon my bedroom floor, at present.  There is the vibration of a jackhammer plummeting away outside in my hip bones through the floor. Construction and destruction is everywhere these days. How pleasant it is to feel the movements of building in such a tangible, savorable way. The body as a frame to absorb.

For now:  Lips glossed. Hair brushed and surrounding my shoulders. The scent of a perfumed oil hints that a stranger has slipped into the room behind me. One can only hope.

Here is to the depth of the scent of what's to come.

It's time to go, now. The quickening of my pulse is the only timepiece necessary.

k.

(image: via Vaspour Tumblr)