Fables and Revelations

I use to think I could do everything on my own, and conquer the skies and embrace the clouds. I however, am not the heavens nor am I atlas with the strength of the gods. Crushed under the weight of the world, trying to breath and looking for serenity and peace. I laid in the musky room of deep blue sheets and listen to the echoes of the passing trains that sing with the stars in the embrace of the evening. Of the voice that was of Tori Amos singing of earthquakes and phantoms, I recall the warmth of the sheets and her sweet sweet voice mingled with the smell of citrus. A million CD covers stare back at me in the wake of the night as the fan whirled on, twisting it’s burly metal head like a little steel monster shaking its head in disapproval. I wondered what the future would be and if I would be able to live a dream, a vision. I once told a friend close to my heart that all I wanted was to wake up in the mornings with someone I love with the soft warmth of human embrace and I would be ...

Destiny and fate always have been like a shooting star grabbing me out of the cold night sky and flinging me onto the warm depths of the red warm soil that is the earth, on to the turf of green moist grass and the kiss of morning dew. I decided to skip down to Starbucks after the Salamanca market this afternoon. The day was a dream, clear bright blue skies that could only be caressed by angels, the sky a warm yellow hue, like standing in the bloom of sunflowers. I walked into Ellison Hawker bookstore along Liverpool Street for no apparent reason, perhaps just the lure of graphic novels have unconsciously drew me into the shop. I stared at Lenore and Sandman and reminisce the times I sat up in a cosy attic listen to the patter of rain on the rooftops and buried my heart and soul into Sandman. I reminded myself to check the Neil Gaiman website when I get home to see if he had anything new of late. Perhaps a new movie or a novel? A rustle of wind and I looked quizzically around, and stro...