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what have i left
to write about
the dark swirls of this wood--
the last breaths of steam that rise from my coffee--
when all that seems to come to mind is you.
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chantal [2 syll. shɑn•tɑhl shawn-TAL (French)]
- c
- making something of nothing— scribbling words spilling coffee cleaning up my messes scribbling coffee spilling poetry on napkins— from behind big dark sunglasses and chronic migraines, good coffee gone cold and the hours, the hours where do they— i write. leaving traces of haiku on scraps of paper everywhere i go and working with promising writers— captivating them with their own words. i read read read (despite the fact i'm a slow reader) and i'd say a good 75% of those books are picture books (ya, kids' books, whatever) and if i catch you standing there i'll start reading one to you, i believe every adult needs a good dose of children's lit every day. a picture book can turn around your entire perspective, make you laugh, and the pictures are just too good! ...in fact, i dabbled in the trade myself way back when (a year or so after this photo of me was taken, i do believe). and since my 1st grade debut stories ‘how to make a peanut butter and tuna fish sandwich’ and ‘i hate saturday morning cartoons’ i’ve had words at my fingertips and now, they're at yours— c
chandeliers on facebook
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photos : by c
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photos : by c
train de nuit
by andrew crane
::
corners.
words and photo booth moments : my blog
1 comment:
oh, how tender and sweet. I can feel the longing...
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