magic

there is magic in the air tonight
the moon is bathing the land in night
owl eyed Athena is looking down on me
faces stare at me
a warrior
a priestess
i am reading the iliad it is time

dogs,flokati,boy sleeping

may rhapsody

people lived here
the guards at the side door of the ancient city of rhamnus used to play board games to while away the time
the main gate/entrance to the city


an anchor
some inset piecing
madness
a map of travels, weaving in stitches

as far as the eye can see
the stormcloth
it was thundering growling coming closer. A libation of wine, part of my rusty collection, a eucalyptus bark storycloth from last year. bundled just in time and left for the storm..an offering
may has been stormy
and windyI am working on word patchwork-very much pulled into the shadowy hall where the suitors eat and drink, where the beggar king watches and plans, where the boy becomes a man, where she spins the yarns of their lives faultlessly weaving and unweaving their fate

mothers day

this was at my doorstep when I woke up. what it says is, of course, I love you mum.
reflections
layering waves
I'll vote for invisible baste anyday
layers of wind

this looks like the beginning of a cloth. I love hewn stones (as opposed to cut)
once more this looks like a prayer to me
striving towards the light

Back, sort of

I'm back in a way..

The tent was pitched, in the middle of a huge "square" in the city of Kerkyra on the island of corfu

I haven'y had time since Thursday to upload the fotos

There were moments of bliss, the tent full of people listening, entranced, to stories

There were moments of exhaustion ..driving the van by a river in the mountains..8 hrs drive..arriving to find there was no provision for electricity(how else would the drill work? or would we be hammering into tarmac, 45 holes?) and then the police hadn't been notified so we had to stop until that got sorted out..

and then having to be there, watching, guarding, telling, cleaning rugs and pillows for 16 out of 24 hours

but it was all ok in the end,

more than ok

magic

yes, I believe in magic

moments:

storks clacking away in their treetops at dawn

a tiny bird stealing wool from a flokati rug to line its nest

the lizard that stood guard next to me for hours looking at the tent from its stone, there in the park

the children talking to the genie of the lamp, they saw it, they really did

the swallows swooping and crying to each other every morning and evening

the people from morocco and afganistan and albania who gathered in and around the tent to tell me their stories after everyone had left

Thodoris and Alekos who catered for an "official" event in the tent who fed anyone who asked for food after the mayor and the ambassadors had had their fill of couscous and hummus

the way the young men looked at the meat before making the courage to ask for some

oh the stories I heard...

feb 15

hey, Catherine

heart hug

thank you jude