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Archive for January, 2010

You Are The Toy In My Cereal.


You’re the toy in my cereal,
The penny in my path
I hope people start to notice
You’re the sparkle in my laugh.


You’re the book I’ll never finish,
The curiousity never ends,
I’ll spend my life turning pages,
We’ll spend our lives being friends.


You’re the wagon wheel at break
You’re the excitement of the fair,
You’re the change in my pocket
I forgot was even there.


You’re the reason for my whistle
When I should be in dismay,
You’re the doodle in my notebook,
You’re the fourth leaf on my day.


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Tell Me Of My Beauty

Tell me of my beauty,

My limbs and my lines

Tell me I’m capable

And that I’m divine.

Build me a bubble

Of soap suds and dreams

Graft me a tower,

And see how it gleams.

I know its not bricks

And built all on sand

But my house of sticks

Is all in demand-

And I don’t believe

In that wolf

That blows down desire

I don’t believe in misfortune

Or sandstorms or fire.

I believe that I’m perfect.

-provided you tell me I’m so

So say again of my beauty

And restore my glow.

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Belong.

A little collection of manual photography I’ve been doing.

click to enlarge.

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My fridge this week.

… sometimes,

its fun not to listen to your mum.

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... sometimes.


it is the tiny things in life, that change us the most –

and what falls from our heads most often is simple;

it is possible to be small and significant.

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Paths

“Follow the road…”

“Stick to the path…”

“Its part of your journey….”

“Your on the road to success…”

“Your moving on…”

“You’ve got to make your own pathway in life…”

“That was a long way back…”

“She was a stage in my life…”

“What direction is your life going in…?”

“You’ve just got to sit tight and move forward…”

“This is the next stepping stone in your life…”

“Its the path of life…”

MY LIFE IS NOT A MOTORWAY.


Screw the path.

If I choose to spend my life wandering directionless through the meadow of the universe… If instead of ‘moving forward’ and ‘pushing on’, if I choose to meander and amble … to dawdle at particularly beautiful spots for longer than is consented … to pause at a single buttercup … To loose attention when things get grown-up … to spend hours on my back investing in a cloud that, in it’s suggested insignificance, will fade as the sun moves across the lid of the galaxy… If I twist and change direction … if I say ‘You know what? I liked THAT bit!’ and go wheeling in glorious colourful full circles back again… If my line squiggles a little, please forgive me.

For to me, there is a great watercolour dribbling smudge between the lands of ‘wander’ and ‘lost’.

Yes, I may never reach my destination. But without a road, can a destination even exist? I hope not.

I hope destinations are fictional, invented by councils and committees, or rumours from little old paper-skinned women who live in shoes and gossip about eggs who fall off walls. Then I can finally swap that pressing, snarling time span for an experience. A mission for an adventure.

Good trade.

The planets don’t travel. They orbit. So excuse me while I spin and steal delight in the itty-bitty things.

Here’s to a squiggling life.


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Waking up the Old Collage

A project I’m working on about The Old College, the original university building in Aberystwyth.

click to magnify!

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