I lie enveloped in velvet darkness with no place to be but right where I am. The chorus of crows outside tells me it’s morning but it could be the evening or the middle of the afternoon.
All in Places
Born In Time
I’m sitting quietly with my son by the river in Le Bugue just watching it flow. My husband and daughter are out on the water canoeing close by and the morning is gently grey.
Through The Sky
In the end everything came together and we did catch that plane. We’d had the tickets to France booked for a couple of months but given international travel’s current state of play that meant next to nothing.
Nothing Is But What Is Not
I sat in one of my favourite LA haunts doing nothing in particular a couple of days ago. It has been an unusual few weeks; discordancy has been the Lord of Misrule.
Continuity
We sped down a clear freeway this morning. The sky was bright with an unearthly translucence that was almost blinding.
Went To See The Gypsy
We took to the road again last week, stealing a few days to spend together as our daughter’s piano and ballet school, The French Conservatory, was having a recital in Las Vegas.
Daydreaming
My daughter and I headed out early this morning, a day packed with activities ahead of us. I took my usual place behind the wheel, admittedly somewhat frazzled due to all the preparations I had undertaken at a rather early hour.
Travelling Light
Los Angeles has come back to life with a roar these past two weeks, stirring memories of our first joyous encounter with this city many moons ago. We noticed the change whilst in the car on a weekday afternoon.
Dreams For Sale
The scent of honeysuckle was strong on the breeze this morning as I dropped my daughter off for an hour under a grey sky. Rain is arriving back in LA tomorrow and I couldn’t be happier.
Easy Answers?
We are hours away from the beginning of the new month and I sit gazing at my Parisian calendar, dreaming of different times.
Adeste Fideles
The rain is falling softly outside as the afternoon stretches into the night before Christmas. While our winter wonderland might not be white, the spirit of Christmas is strong in our hearts.
Music of Memory
Life in the City of Dreams ebbs and flows. I was in the car one evening on the way to Inglewood I think; a drive I’ve sat through more than twice.