Work is now turning colored twine into Christmas balls while watching Jane Austen adaptations. Work is afternoons of checking and packing Japanese obi and sneaking in an ice cream break in between. Work is interviewing weavers and finding the poetry between their deft fingers, silent but uncontainable. I am writing more but writing is not work, never work. I am writing and the world disappears.
4 comments:
Yay! You have a blog pala, that was why I wasn't seeing you in LJ anymore. Will add this to my reader so I don't miss your posts. Miss you, girl! (And our food trips.) :D
Hi, Sky! I've had this for a while but I'm not a very regular blogger haha. Wala na rin kasi akong masyadong nakikita sa LJ plus I've often encountered problems loading the pages, I dunno why :(
Chris. I want to see the poetry in those fingers chorva, too. I saw them before during a story I had to shoot. I can't wait to read what those fingers tell you chorva. Hugs!
Looking forward to seeing you this holiday season, Camille! Let's meet up earlier so we can catch up -- andami nating pag-uusapan!
Post a Comment