But I Being Poor Have Only My Dreams

When I was 18 I dreamed that I was sitting at a kitchen table. It was round and stained yellow. A bright buttercup yellow. The table sat in a window, and through the window I could see it was a beautiful day - blue sky and sunlight. I could feel it warming my face as I looked up from the papers I was sorting through. I sat looking out of the window, lost in thought. Someone walked through the kitchen. As he passed he touched me lightly on the shoulder. He didn't say anything, and I didn't say anything. But I woke up still feeling the light touch on my shoulder. And was content.

Taste of Home

Taste of Home, originally uploaded by liz_isabella.

Skin

You are embedded on my skin
Indelible
Immovable as the mole on my forehead -
The one you'd touch and call
Yours.

Hazy shade of winter

Hazy shade of winter, originally uploaded by liz_isabella.

TMI

I always wear co-ordinating underwear. It's a bit of a compulsion. Today, by some trick of fate and by virtue of Gap's knicker range, I did not. It bugged me far more than it should have done. I think I may need some kind of intervention.

A Sign

A Sign, originally uploaded by liz_isabella.

Language Is A Fluid Thing

This morning, while simultaneously doing a crossword and trying to convert grams into kilograms.

"What's smaller than an inch?" I asked.

"What?" he said.

"You get millimeters, which are smaller than centimeters, but what's smaller than an inch?" I asked again.

"You don't get milli-inches," he agreed.

"We just say 'half an inch' or 'quarter inch',' I said. "We should have deci-inches."

"Or centi-inches," he said. "Cinches!"

"Ha!" I said. "Excellent use of language."

"Well, you know what they say. A miss is as good as a cinch," he answered.