JUNK

October 23, 2019

This is a graveyard for broken things.

Scratched-up cassette tapes and punctured tyres and dulled rainbow shards of stained glass from moss-covered God-forsaken cathedrals;
Unspooled rusted wire and torn cotton quilts from empty cribs and seared flea-ridden fabric-shrouded seats out of burnt-up worn-down trucks;
Ivy-blanketed Ferris wheels and dust-claimed sepia photographs or long-dead men, and cracked-skull faded-paisley-wearing one-legged china dolls left behind from picnics in the grass of the banks downstream.

Eerie nostalgia and weather-beaten fragments of days gone by are not shadowed by polished new primary-coloured cars or drowned out by laughing children’s shiny echoing bicycle bells in this place.

It is quiet here.

Rae O’Dowd

true witches

October 23, 2019

The world needs more witches. Women who fly in their dreams, and who have decided to rid themselves of everyday labels and walk free. Woman who can laugh out loud and ignore the people who call them crazy – because they have renounced submission and merged with the natural world around them. Women who have left captivity and risen – now they will stop for no one, they are invincible and without doubt. They are transformed. They are true witches.

P

all the dark things

October 23, 2019

The witching hour, somebody had once whispered to her, was a special moment in the middle of the night when every child and every grown-up was in a deep deep sleep, and all the dark things came out from hiding and had the world all to themselves.

Roald Dahl
The BFG