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fyngula
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is a memory of the small, intricate moments that we shared together in new mexico. you didn't ever visit the palace of the governers but i showed you the turquoise ring i bought from a local. i remember how the native americans shunned my sony digital. was it their soul i was capturing?
this bracelet i make for you is one of the twelve presents for the twelve days.
1. a full tank of petrol for your lorrie.
2. fotos and enlargements done at kinko's and foto-hut.
3.complete christmas decorating on the porch of the farmhouse on
robin_hill. a small fir, lighted, with rudolf ornaments and red ribbon and bow. garlands and streamers. spruce branches in the window boxes where the begonias grew this summer.
peter, the black and white farmcat that i accidently stepped on in the goat shed, is fairly interested in the sudden, beautiful change on the porch. his wicker chair is still there and so for that he is sufficiently happy. he sniffs, smiling. he wants to come inside where the logburning fire awaits, but the farmhouse is already pleasantly inhabited by felines.
a lilac-point siamese named luca, after suzanne vega's immortal song about child abuse. she is the mother of rosey browne, a seal point female. luca meows constantly, as if she is in a perpetual state of heat. she is the queen of the inside world of robin hill. she commands her presence upon the third resident, tripod the siamese-hater, a.k.a known as uhki (the japnese word for white? we think.) they fight, spit, hiss, and amazingly enough luca wins. ( and so in "affame le geant, if tripod ever fails, boffden could send luca to rescue puppertwinkle, but guess what, tripod is too awesome, as p2 knows, and he will kick everyone's ass.
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