Search Results for 'child'
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Search Results
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In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Illi was quite pleased with the sand dragons.
HHHMMM, they don’t repulse me like dragons usually do. I think it’s because they are sand dragons, and sand is so much nicer than slimy cold scales. Well! Illi thought, I really wouldn’t know if they are slimy or cold, because, for the love of all-that-is, I would not choose to venture that close!
Illi chose to ignore her rather paradoxical musings on loving all that is, which would by definition include the beastly dragons, and turned her attention to the sand giant slouching patiently at the end of the beach.
Now giants, that’s another thing entirely. I am quite enamoured of giants, and this one looks so familiar!
Illi leaned back against the sand dragons bulky body and closed her eyes, reminiscing about her early years as Illi Fergusson, and her eccentric family.
When Illi was a young child she rarely saw her parents, the eccentric Lord Gustard Willoughby Fergusson and his charmingly batty second wife, Floribunda Chaiise-Loriket. Illi stayed at home in the anscestral country pile in Dorset, Rubbingdon Hall, with Nanny Chraddock while her parents travelled the world in search of giant bones and artifacts. Their travels took them far and wide, from the jungles of South America to the deserts of North Africa; from the mountains of Spain to the arid eternity of the Australian outback.
Illi used to play a game with Cranky (as she affectionately called nanny Chraddock) in the long months while her parents were away, called Wish House. Every room in the sprawling Elizabethan house was a different time and place, and the moment they entered the room they imagined themselves to be different people, in other times. Petunia Duster the maid loved to join in too; consequently not alot of housework got done, but with Gus and Flora always off travelling, nobody minded. Playing was, after all, so much more important than dust. In fact, a thick layer of dust made the rooms all the more mysterious and magical.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The City, year 2257
Janice had just awoken from a strange dream, where she was watching big round cabbages being harvested in what looked like Quintin’s father garden. They were all firmly rooted on a black irrigation pole across the garden, and people were using strange devices to turn them all delicately and pick them afterwards. In the dream, there were black puppies too, sleeping in the straw of a kind of hut nearby. And she had seen another creature, and had been surprised first because it was unlike anything she had ever met, even in dreams. It was hairless and brown as soft mud, and was hiding in the neighbour’s garden. Then it had crossed and came to play with her…
Janice was lost in her thoughts strolling on the way to the common dome, when she met Rodney, her father’s friend.
They had been recently trying with her father Jacob, and also Qixi to connect with their shifting focuses of the Ancients, two centuries and half before their time.
Some of them, they had found, had been playing a sort of game of story-telling and clue-sowing… (Janice was laughing as her father’s friend, the scientist Arkandin, always insisted on seesawing instead)Perhaps her dream was telling her that the crop was ripe, and it was time to harvest some from it. She told her dream to Rodney. All at once, he was quite excited and they started to feel they wanted to chat more freely. So they went into one of the Medraw Caps that was available and soon imagined a comfortable environment for themselves to explore more.
Janice could hear Al or Quintin complain about how things were getting confusing.
She tried to convey to both of them that they could be excited about it, as it was expanding their understanding, but they weren’t very receptive. Somewhere Al was saying to Becky
— The more you try to fix it, the more confused I am
— Hahahahah yes! Becky was answering, I guess so! Ahahahah! Al, what a fabulous dance of confusion we do… The Confundo Tango
— Ahahah, yes!Al started again to moan:
— So who’s dead, who’s the shapeshifter? Who’s the human, who’s the cat?
(Rodney was laughing, as for him, he could accept the confusion as much easier, letting him free to wander around!)
— Illi was a woman, a shapeshifter who shape-shifted into a cat, then, she died. Becky was saying (Rodney added mentally “Now, she is disengaged” as he knew that “death” was a confusing word.) She was an archaeologist
— Okay, that’s cool, that’s what I thought, Al acquiesced. Then thought back of what was said of her and wondered… Anyway, it will probably find a perfect answer …
Becky nodded
— I got lost myself when two Illis appeared, and a grip-thing as well
— Because I didn’t want the grip-thing to be dead! Al couldn’t help but laugh. That would have been too easy, like wiggling out. Not using your imagination within the context of objective imagery to sort out “things”… While Rodney and Janice were seeing that their other focuses were kind of stuck in their explanation, they had time freeze and both decided to come back to their “now” to start from their understanding.
A funny thought had come to Janice, that she shared with Rodney.
— Oh, the funny thing you know, about Becky having written to Sean…
Rodney nodded. Janice continued:
— It just appeared in my mind just moments ago, at the same time you (well, Rafaela) inserted into the story of Malvina. That Becky would have been asking Sean something, and that perhaps it would have helped him talk to his father in the future.— Well, that Sean is SUCH AN ENIGMA! bumped Rodney a bit excited by the implications.
— What do you mean? asked Janice, who just remembered that Sean Doran has a cousin named Dorean.
— Who is he? Where is he? was asking Rodney now.
Rodney was having a hard time remembering what had been inserted yet in the story about him.So Janice manifested the Wrick family tree in front of them, so that he could see better. She started by manifesting an acorn, then threw in on the grass, and it sprung forth in a little sapling with signs hanging from its branches.
— Well, it’s all in the script, answered Janice, he’s Lord Wrick’s son.
— Oh boy, I am in trouble again for not keeping up with the facts! Rodney sighed, and laughed…
Janice laughed “So that you can surprise yourself again!”Rodney felt thankful for the sumafiness of Janice who was always prompt to display helpful hallucinations and reminders.
Janice stopped the growth of the family tree for a moment and started to comment it.
— See, in Becky’s time of the reality play, Sean is Lord’s Wrick son, and has just lost his wife Margaret, and got his two young children around their 10s.
— When is Becky’s time then? Rodney wondered, I hadn’t though of that…
— Becky’s time for the reality play is around 2033…
Then Janice had the tree grow again, and sprout more branches from Sean’s children:
— …Now, Sean is the grand-father of the twins, except than the twin’s time is around 2057 if it had not changed yet. It’s so carefully woven, but it’s fun how it effortlessly came to fit in.
— TRUST AND ALLOWING AND GOING WITH THE FLOW cried Rodney and Janice in unison, in the realisation of how well all this was.Rodney was beginning to remember it all.
— I just remember the part about Sean, so he is still a bit of a mystery
— Yes, absolutely
— We don’t really know do we why Hilarion didn’t mention him
— Oh, there’s also the Margaret newspaper thing… Janice fumbled in her memory to find the proper link that would display the image of the newspaper cut just at the right of the family tree. Adding with a wink “with more dates to get bearings”
— Ahahah, I’d love to have pocketfuls of ball bearings said Rodney who manifested a pocketful to distract him from the load of information. OH YES! he cried, I had forgetten about this! What an incredibly HUGE story this is…Rodney was squinting his dream eyes
— So, Sean was into humanitarian effort after 2001…
— His father actually I think, said Janice. He was a bit too young.
— Oh OK, I misread, that’s hard to read!Then, all of a second, Rodney erupted in an uproarious laugh
— AHAHAHA, I had just forgotten to de-hallucinate these pince-nez spectacles! Now, it is much easier to read!
Janice was laughing so hard, she thought she would shatter the hallucination with the wobbles of the soundless sounds.
Then she added:— Sean is born around 2000, a bit before.
— OK, maybe he went to help the Tuaregs, Rodney was accessing some information now. Maybe he was the one who put the mummy in the locked room that India found.
— You know I had something funny in store for the mummy mystery, Janice couldn’t help but laugh again. I imagined we could have inserted Old Manon, coming down to secretly drink from her old malt whiskey’s flask, and finding them messing up with her old dear stuffed cat…
— Maybe the mummy was the same one that Dory saw in the oblong hole in the ground outside the cave, Rodney was still accessing flickering images swirling around his head. And Sean was there helping the Tuaregs and moved it to safety.
Of course, years previously, Illi Fergusson, the archeologist had buried the mummy there too for safe keeping.Now, Janice was hooked:
— Was it where Illi learned about shapeshifting tricks from the old tribe?
Rodney noticed Janice’s funny remark and laughed before continuing:
— The Tuaregs were conducting secret coleslaw experiments in the desert. In combination with sound and irrigation techniques, they were going to run the entire Sahara into a broccoli field.Janice was amazed at the cabbage “coincidence” and irrigation stuff with her dream of that morning. Of course she knew there where probably mis-interpretation of the imagery coming from Rodney’s visions, but something made sense.
— Around which year? she asked
— Arrggh I don’t know!… Then, taking a breath of dream air, Rodney said “1923”. When Illi learned shape-shifting trick, 1923.
— It makes sense, said Janice who was now thinking of other dispersed informations about Illi Fergusson.
— Yes, she learned from Dashine Ashara… Although who that is, I don’t yet know.
— Wow, said Janice. She had felt a connection with the “da’sheen” sound. She continued: somewhere, Illi Fergusson has said: “my parents were aristocrats”
— Yes, answered Rodney who was accessing again, they were, and they knew the Wildes .
— And it was said too: “[…] a nurturing presence that reminded Illi of the maid she and her parents had in their cottage in South Africa”… like her parents were traveling a lot.
— Ah, South Africa! Illi’s parents emigrated to South Africa with Sir Abingdon Portfellow, an elderly scholar on ancient artifacts and embalming.
— Seems she knew John Lubbock too, said Janice again, reviving old data banks of information. Dates seem okay, so if she was around 30 in the Tuareg adventure, she could have met him.
— Wow, said Rodney, this is even more interesting…“But we may sit at home and yet be in all quarters of the earth.” Janice had just summoned the voice of the naturalist and archaeologist. Rodney applauded “Lubbock said that? cool quote!”.
— Yes, like Illi’s quote, which was from him “What we see depends mainly on what we look for”. I wonder if that’s one of your (Illi’s) overlapping focuses, said Janice…— Well, Illi didnt stay long in South Africa with boring old whatever his name was, Rodney pursued
— Yes, she was young with her parents. They were traveling…They were both amazed at the magical cooperation they were doing at that moment. Janice would have loved to share all of that with Qixi and Jacob, but probably their energies were present at the moment too, though not focused here.
She then remembered something else:
— Oh, and there is something else! Quintin’s dream of the woman detective. Let me fetch it she said, summoning now Quintin’s memory to talk to them.
… by night, near a museum in London, in the 1920s. She was investigating a case of a strange disappearance near a small replicate of an Egyptian pyramid that had been put here for display. There had been an exposition of ancient artifacts in the museum, which had been recently unearthed by a team of archaeologists and graciously lent by Egypt’s officials. Strangely enough, the woman detective feels linked to the story, and is probably Dory…
Date fits again, she said in awe.
— Perfect! said Rodney. She was of course Dory too, but in that focus she was Illi Fergusson… he slowed down, then said No! wait! The detective was another one of my focuses. The archeologist who stole the mummy for safekeeping was Illi.
— Hmmm
— Hmmm
— So you are both the thief and the detective, the one who creates mystery for yourself, how interesting, giggled Janice.
— Yes, and not only that Janice! Rodney was taking a mysterious air… I am the mummy too!Janice bust out laughing imagining Rodney in bandages. Yes, of course!
Then, she had a name come with that: Apsh’un Shet she said, very self-absorbed.
Now, that was Rodney’s turn to burst out laughing.
— “I am not sure about that!”
— Doubting my insights… mmm, how rude… Janice frowned then laughed again.
— If you call me that, I may have to make you out to have a speech impediment
— Sounds a good Egyptian name for me though, seems it means “Light of the Dawn”
— Does it? Oh that sounds nice…
— Well, in some Egyptian dialect, yes. She was a Princess…
— Hahaha! Reminds me of Aspen Shit. Rodney doubted Janice could be serious about that name, but Janice was now the one to be accessing some information.
— Bit bossy Princess
— Which dynasty?
— III rd, answered Janice, who fumbled in links of consciousness to find some timeline to project for them.
— What year?
Janice projected the timeline below then said
— I’d say around 2657 B.C., in Ancients way of telling time.They both marveled at the splendid team work they had been doing, and hoped that the other focuses involved would be able to get some parts of their insights too.
Rodney was seeing something else
— There is also, a very fascinating link between Tassili in the Sahara and Egypt which is a mystery AND there is a connection with Egypt and Scotland too…
— Illi the gripshawk comes from the mysterious land of the Sands, south of the map fragment
— We may unravel more than we think… Illi is an other dimensional focus of the Illi essence…
— Yes she is. She is a connection too, being “lost” in the land of dragons after hopping through traveling portals…
— Exactly
— And they communicated because they are helping each other
— Which is why she doesn’t always ‘fit’ into this reality’s energy configuration
— And they have some difficulties at times with translations of other dimensional stuff
— Yes! resulting in confusion!And they both laughed again, looking at the great tapestry of clues that was woven before their dream eyes.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
— The legend of Mævel — (Part I)
as told by Cpt Bone to young Tomkin
In the time of the Gods, the King of the Fairies, Aldurion, fell in love with a beautiful mortal named Theÿa.
He wanted to make her his Queen but only the Elder Gods could bestow the gift of immortality upon mortals.
So he went to see Ghört, the God of the Airs. Ghört could certainly grant him what he requested, but for that, Theÿa would have to be transformed into an air sprite. Aldurion wouldn’t be able to hold her again. So he declined the offer, and went to see another Elder God.
Then, he went to see Nærvel, the Goddess of the Waters. But Nærvel could grant him immortality if Theÿa was to be transformed into a water sprite. So Aldurion declined again.
Then he went to see Agnima, the Goddess of the Flames, and then Selvaniel the God of the Woods, and Margilonia the Goddess of the Earths. But all of their conditions were the same, Theÿa would have to be transformed into an immaterial and immortal elemental fairy. But Aldurion couldn’t bear to have her changed into something else than she was.Then, only one of the Elder Gods was left, the one than few of the Immortals dared talk to, and of whom most mortals were afraid, to the point of systematically using the Old Speech respectful form of address (“Shaint”), when referring to him.
So Aldurion came to see Lejüs, God of the Forgotten.
Lejüs was greatly pleased to see him. When Aldurion had finished exposing his request, Lejüs took a moment to ponder. Giving immortality was none of his wonts, as he was keeper of the Forgotten. But he was not without compassion, and seeing Aldurion’s plight, he offered to grant his wish at the condition that, not his wife, but their first born child, would become Forgotten.
Aldurion was so hopeful that all he saw was that the condition seemed so small, based on a future event that perhaps wouldn’t even happen… All he wanted was to have Theÿa as a Queen, and so the deal was made.So became Theÿa Queen of the Fairies.
A few God’s Years later, which meant in human years much more than a few years, Theÿa became pregnant.
When she announced the news to Aldurion, he was suddenly reminded of the deal he had made with Lejüs, and was quite distraught, as he had not revealed it to Theÿa. But he remained quiet, hoping that Lejüs would have forgotten about the whole story (well, that was forgetting he was Keeper of the Forgotten).
So Theÿa gave birth to a little baby girl fairy, with golden wavy hair and bright eyes. She, like her mother, had no wings, but there was magic in her. They named her Araoni.But Lejüs had not forgotten of course, and came to see the Royal couple to claim the baby. Aldurion pretended that the mother and baby was still very weak, and he would have to come back in a few God’s Days. Lejüs agreed, and left complaisantly.
Aldurion was at a loss for solutions, but Theÿa was a fairy with lots of ruse, so he decided to reveal it all to her, hoping that she would have a solution.
Theÿa asked him time to think about this, and told him not to worry.
Later, she had an idea, quite brilliant she thought. All she had to do was to find another child to give Lejüs.
So she gave baby Araoni to one of her diligent nurse, the old fairy Gretchÿa, telling her to find a house were a blond new born girl could be exchanged and proceed to the exchange of the babies.So Gretchÿa went across the lands of the Worlds, but only in one home she could find a blond baby girl. The new-born baby girl was almost dying, as the parents were a careless couple of peasants, already plagued with many children, and they could not bother with children hesitating to live.
Gretchÿa was heart-broken when she did the exchange, promising to baby Araoni to get her back soon. The young human baby girl was weak and yet unnamed, and the old fairy nurse knew she would probably not live long, and be claimed by Shaint Lejüs. So all was good.When Lejüs came back, he smiled as he saw the baby girl, and left with her without much more words for the Royal couple.
Lejüs smiled, for when he had taken the young baby, the parents had instantly forgotten about her, and so did everyone having ever known her…The human parents, surprised to see the condition of their baby improving beyond all hope, named her Mævel, which meant marvel of Maÿ the month in which she was born.
Topic: Yuki’s Livrary
These are excerpts from Yuki’s diary, explaining some of the details of the experiment called — Malvina’s story —.
Note: for the reader not familiar with all the names here is a quick reminder:
- Araili > Yann, Írtak, Sam, Jacob …
- Armelle > Fiona, Arona, Tina, Qixi …
- Rafaela > Dory, Illi, Becky, Rodney …
- Yuki > Quintin, Al, Janice …
September 12 th, 2007
Today, an experiment has been launched by Quintin. Time will tell if it will bear some fruit, but the idea sounds good.
Having people join in a story telling, and see what happens, what are the “lessons” one can draw from this…Armelle, Rafaela and Araili are already on the starting-blocks, though Quintin is not quite aware yet.
I can hear some thoughts: Let’s say for the moment that there are no rules. We will see what prompts the desire for having rules…
September 13 th
Some of the people familiar with Janice and her friends’ adventures have already joined in with much enthusiasm.
This first comment seems very promising.Right now, it feels easy and fun.
Quintin seems to think that everything is very straightforward.
The magical world with the cave in one part, separated from the “real” world. (Two Worlds, and he thinks that will be enough to content Rafaela, ahaha, how presumptuous)
The first he sees as a representation of what psychologists think of as “subconscious”, and the other being the conscious, physical part.But of course, he thinks he knows better than that. He calls the first one “subjective” rather than subconscious, because it’s a translation of subjects which unfold in many related objects in the “objective” or physical world.
That’s a good point, though a bit distorted. It would be better to say Malvina’s World is a translation of the subjective, in the manner of a Heroic Dimension.
But the thing is, that he missed the point in thinking one World is more “real” than the other.
We’ll be having some fun soon…First remark… The second comment of the story has been interrupted abruptly in the middle of a sentence. That is interesting. We will urge Quintin to leave it as it is, despite his feeling of it being awkward.
We will appeal to his imagination.
It seems he has heard the suggestion.September 14 th
For the most part, the story starts to get much involvement. Lots of energies are being projected into it, and with every adjunct, each participant’s perception stretches to accommodate the changes and smooth out the bumps in their own sense of continuity.
But as I expected, some challenges seem to appear already.
Is it raining or not in that world?
The question seems simple, but it is very profound and Fiona seems to struggle a bit with it, as is Quintin. The question frame itself [“that World”] shows where the difficulty lies.He seems to avoid the discrepancy and pretend that he has not seen it. Mmmm, avoiding the obstacles… that will very soon come right back in front of you dear Quintin, for Dory is quite playful.
At least Fiona has been challenging Dory for not paying attention… Armelle’s ineffable loving ruthlessness!
How will it unfold?
Rafaela seems to be delighting herself as though she’s preparing some mischief, but Dory struggles in the “back”…September 15 th
Dory is indeed very playful and her imagination is unrestrained. I extend much appreciation to this focus of Rafaela, especially as Quintin has to stretch his imagination to make things “fit”.
Quintin is still avoiding the issues that appear sporadically and prefers to stay focused on his own perception of the story… Careful Quintin
Yann joins the fun —objectively, that is, for Araili has been present already since the very beginning.
September 16 th
Halcyons days…
My dear friend Archie is answering some of Quintin and Yann’s questions.
Something starts to dawn on Quintin. But his mind is on other matters.He understands that the energies of the writers are melding in writing the story, but he still tends to think that they blend completely.
September 18 th
Quintin has been drawing some of the characters of the story. It’s interesting.
He had good insights, as Yann will tell him later that his clothes today were exactly the same as the colours he had drawn.Characters drawn:
- Mavina, Leörmn the dragon and weaszchilla, Írtak, Huÿgens (and Fjutch), Arona and Illi (the gripshawk)
- Malika, Quintin, Yann, Fiona and Dory
Interestingly, Fiona resolves her issues in her cave.
Dory too, but she did not need the cave to do this.September 21 st
For Quintin, the story seems to lose all common sense, as some characters move from World to World. You could have expected that Quintin!
And Dory pops in and out, in her mind, in her dream state, or in future timeline mixed with present or past one.
Quintin will soon realize that he himself is doing this constantly, though he does not register it.But the worst thing for him is that there are bleedthroughs in between Worlds. The Reality Times newspaper was brilliant Rafaela, a perfect trigger for the beliefs that the Worlds are closed and impermeable to each other!
Archie has been answering new questions about that story and this had been quite interesting for all of the participants.
There is much for them to digest from the realization that each of them had been creating their own versions of the stories through their perceptions. And that they were each having their version of the story, drawing from each other’s input, like a conductor of an orchestra incorporating some instruments.Of course, some things still matter, and one of the point of the story is also to discover these.
September 22 nd
Quintin has been drawing new characters.
Characters drawn:
- Båd Al’Guz (Bådul), BelleDora, Buckberry the dragon, the twin dragon eggs, Archibald the parrot, Sanso the Wanderer
- Illi Fergusson, another Illi that Quintin has tried to sneak in as a bait for Dory, with hints that she is disengaged (or “dead” in common vernacular) and merges with others of her focuses…
- Jacqueline Bleomelen (Nanny Gibbon), Lord Wrick, his great grand children the twins Cuthbert and India Louise, Manfred, William P. Jobsworth the painter
A new perception trick: Dory felt relieved upon seeing the moth feelers of BelleDora.
She had at first thought they were whiskers, which was not Quintin’s intent…September 23 rd
Quintin seems to have connected to a map drawn by Lord Wrick, when the old Lord has started to document his great grand children travels.
Quintin had tried to put some annotations on this fragment, but he doesn’t yet completely understand that his perception of this World, though accurate, is only valid in this present moment, and may change at any time.
Up to now, here are the names he could find:
- North: the Icy Lands, and Dragon Cemeteries
- Center: Goldfindely, homeland of Arona, connected to the Warring Kingdoms of Lan’ork by the Isthmus of Ghört’s Hammer. The Isthmus of the Dragon Head seems to lead to Malvina’s cave and hideout. Mount Elok’ram is pointed as the highest place of the World yet discovered. Three main rivers are drawn: in the ancient myths of the people of this land, they represent the three Daughters of Ghört, weavers of men’s destinies: Tibreÿa, Uleÿa, and Snimeÿa. Snimeÿa cuts the thread of life, which is shown as the river leads after many meanders to the Marshes of Doom.
- Far East, North: the Land of Båd Al’Guz, Åsgurdy. A harsh mountainous land of islands and seas.
Both parts of the World seem to ignore each other till now, as they are separated by the Great Rift, which in the past has deterred many intrepid navigators. - South: the Desert Lands. Illi’s birthplace, rarely explored by humans thus unaware of most of its marvels, gripshawks nomadic tribes included.
When he discussed Arona’s village with Fiona, Quintin had the vision of some dolphin-like creatures, but bright yellow. They are called golfindels and are mostly seen on the northern shores of Arona’s homeland, which is thus called Golfindely.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
In searching for a sheet of paper to do some sketches of images going through his mind, Bill found an old poem he had started a long time ago, when he was feeling like he was completely transforming himself. He had not finished the poem, but had kept it all along…
It said:
I’ve been wandering through the valleys of death
Where time knows no ending and all is gray
And shadows seek nothing but oblivion itself
In mazes of mist, minds’ errands led astray…Perhaps it was time to let go of useless things, Bill thought to himself.
He watched the paper slowly smoldering and shrinking and falling to black and white cinders into the hearth.
Before going to sleep that night, Quintin had the sensation of Janice’s presence. He was surprised, because she was no longer the little girl he had seen at times, but she was a very pretty young woman, with dark wavy hair.
She had giggled at his surprise, telling him that yes, she was catching up with him…
The City, year 2255
Today was Janice’s birthday, but not her birthday as the Ancients, two and half a century from her time, would have counted it. It was counted from the time of the conception, as the future parents in this time were fully aware of the agreements they would have with the soul they would decide to give birth to.
It was a reminder of this agreement between the parents and the child that was celebrated, and not the actual birth date.
Janice had felt Cyprus’ presence quite strongly, and she decided to let herself open to the subjective communication. She was conversing with her friend Qixi, and sent her some energy to let her know she would probably remove her attention for a few moments, knowing she would be accepting.
When she closed her eyes, she could immediately feel herself engulfed by the strong yet smooth energy of Cyprus; it was like being kissed by a swarm of blue sparkling butterflies.
Then she opened her eyes.
She was in an ancient classroom, with Cyprus focused as a teacher figure. Cyprus was seated behind her desk and came at once to great Janice.
— Good morning!
— Good morning Cyprus, you wanted to say something to me?
— In actuality, you wanted me to tell you something, answered Cyprus with a mysterious smile.
— Yes, I thought so. Is it about what I am choosing to do as an activity?
— Correct.
— You are aware that I want to be creating of worlds, and give them to people that would have commissioned them…
— Yes, I am aware. And you wanted me to highlight some misconceptions about that.
— Oh, misconceptions?
— Yes. As you know, with these worlds that you create, you have infinite potential of explorations. You also know that they are not independent from the rest, even when you take great care of encapsulating them in an energy field. And as such, they are not cut-off from yourself, as soon as you deliver them.
— It feels like a tremendous responsibility.
— It is, and it is not. The responsibility is to yourself, as always. But, I wanted you to be aware that you hold some responsibility, to examine your own injections into these worlds that you create, so that you can be neutralizing what is not desired, and not merely hiding it deeper inside the world itself.
— OK, I will do that…
— Ahaha, there is another thing, my dear.
— Oooh…
— You also wanted me to make sure you understood what I meant.
— Ahahaha, I see. Wiggling out won’t be as easy as I thought, Janice said with a smile. So, is it the reason for this classroom?
— Nothing is hidden from you, as always.So Janice took a look at the sheet of paper on top of her own school desk.
— I’ll be around if you need me, reassured Cyprus.
— Thank you, said JaniceThe paper was like a spot test, with a few questions on it.
Study on a Few Contradictory Beliefs
1. GUILT
a. An old lord has lost contact with his son, because of harsh things said in the past.
Write a short story about him realizing how guilt is not effective, and how past can be changed from the point of present by direct action.
b. Detail the main beliefs you can see associated with this action of guilt.
2. FEAR
a. A man chooses to be disengaging by drowning in a river. During his transition, he faces his fears, helped in that by a friendly spirit. The fears take the forms of a forest of trees, all similar, with branches and malicious roots extending to him. In his previous life, the man thought he was a fool, as an excuse to stand out of the numb crowd. But now he faces this crowd again, only to be able to go on his journey and let go.
Write a short paragraph about his journey. Place yourself from the perspective of both him and the friendly spirit guiding him through his fears, and see how he helps himself in realizing he does not need to push the fears away, and that they can disappear easily.
b. Detail the beliefs associated with his madness, that he needs to let go of in order to be crossing the forest, and go to the Bridge of Daffoldils that leads to his cave of Self.
DUPLICITY
In association with the last two examples, detail how duplicity (belief in good versus bad) is influencing of each of the actions, and can be neutralised by accepting self and trusting that you shall not betray yourself.
Janice gave her paper to Cyprus, who took it and held it for a moment, evaluating the answers.
Cyprus then made it burst into a bluish dancing flame, and when the paper had disappeared, smiled at Janice lovingly.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Arona and Mandrake sat side by side looking into the glass ball filled with sand. They had been practising for some time, and had both become quite proficient at shifting the sand.
So what shall we make now Mandrake? Something we both like maybe?
A fish perhaps? suggested Mandrake
Oh excellent idea! and no sooner was it thought of than the sand would shift accordingly.
Scrambled eggs I think too, on chunks of homemade bread, said the still hungry Arona, and chocolate!
Some milk for me, said Mandrake
Hmmm not sure about that Mandrake. Lots of cats have allergies to cows milk.
Mandrake rolled his eyes And chocolate might make you fat, he said, but was I so rude as to mention it? and Mandrake created a hairy cow, and a farmer to milk the cow.
Arona laughed, and created a little sand langoat, just in case the stubborn Mandrake changed his mind. Langoat’s milk would be much better for him she thought.
The glass ball was now filled with a miniature world of sand objects.
Arona leaned back against the wall and stroked Mandrake. She felt very fond of the grumpy cat. The feeling of being able to create whatever she wanted had been fun. Perhaps, she thought, her creations were rather rudimental at this stage, but then already she could feel bigger things brewing within her as her confidence grew. She felt as though the sand game had focused her, like a beam of light which shone only on that which was intended.
Arona closed her eyes and allowed her mind to open and reach out, something she knew she had always been able to do easily, but her fear of the “madness” had made her cautious and hide these abilities, till she became unsure of them. The “madness” was the term the people in her Village had given to the poor wretched wandering ones, who claimed to hear voices and communicate with Gods. Once as a child she had seen the Villagers drive one of these poor souls from the Village, shouting and abusing him. She did not really understand what he had done, only that the Villagers were afraid of him. So Arona had felt it was better to keep some things to herself.
Arona left her mind open and allowed images to enter. Some of the images she did not understand, and she let them flow on, enjoying the energy of them notwithstanding. She saw a dragon, it was not the one with the mouthful of riddles, but another one, a baby one she felt. Her ability to see pictures was quite rusty, but she felt a connection with this baby dragon and a great fondness for it.
She felt a great peacefulness in her body, a knowledge that walking in the world of magic would be easier from now on
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
New York, October, 4 th 2033
Albert had opened the newspaper, scanning distractedly through the various pages of text that would read aloud automatically when he was running his fingers through it. He was about to close it, when he noticed that article in the Life Focus section.
Dublin, October 5 th 2033
Sean Doran Wrick had received tons of phone calls, emails and voice mails of condolences since the past few weeks, but he had not found the strength to answer any of them. Especially those coming from his father.
That morning, he had received some letters that he would have left on top of the others, had he not recognized the round and cheerful calligraphy of Becky on one of them.
He had known Becky when they had traveled together in Syria, and had enjoyed so much the lively young woman that they had kept in touch during all those years.
He was pleased to read from her, and wanted to enjoy it fully.
So he took his time to put to bed Guinevere and Peregrine before. Guinevere was the eldest, very mature for her barely 11 year old. She took great care of her younger brother, who was more dreamy and foolish. Peregrine would turn 10 next March… but he was hardly as responsible as his sister when she was his age…
Dear Sean, Becky was writing
I would have liked to finally take the time to write to you in better conditions, but I could not delay any longer. I saw the obituary in the newspaper, and wanted you to know that I share your grief and loss, and extend much love and support to you and to your dear little ones.
I know you’re not the kind of person to be satisfied with banalities, so I will not dwell on this tragedy, and will remember the best moments we shared together.
I still continue my studies and practices on dramatherapy, and till now it has proved very beneficial, in many ways. I have learned so many things. It’s quite rewarding. We are a close-knit group of fools (or drôles as Al loves to say, as some of his ancestors come from the bayous!), and that is very much enjoyable when things that tragic come to one’s reality.
In case you feel like talking, don’t hesitate any moment, I’ll be here. Anytime.
Love,
Becky.
Orkney Islands, October 4 th, 2057
This year again, Sean Doran had not answered his father’s calls.
This September 23 th was the twenty fourth anniversary of the disengagement of Lord Wrick’s daughter-in-law, and this was always a very somber period for the family.
Hopefully, the twins were here to enliven the old mansion, for as long as their parents, Lord Wrick’s grand-children, would be traveling. And of course, there had been the unexpected return of the books, which had been comforting too.
Nonetheless, Hilarion Wrick was sad, and Bill the painter was uneasy as to how he could not quite put right the portrait of the old dragon…
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
William Percival Jobsworth, or “Bill” for short, was finding the old creaking manor as freaky as their owners.
The Wrick family was known around for being shrouded in mystery, and few people had actually been invited inside the manor, after its acquisition by Lord Wrick.
The manor itself was full of ghost stories, as every mansion worth its salt in that part of the country. But this one has been a wreck on which he would not have invested two pence of his money, after it had been abandoned for many decades after the sudden death of the previous owner, the Crazy Baron.
But Lord Wrick was an eccentric, and had bought the manor and restored it to its previous grandeur.
It had been thrice now that Bill had come to the manor to paint the family portraits. The first time he had also delivered that strange parcel, given to him by that strange lady. Looking straight into his eyes, she had also told him something that had lingered in his mind quite vividly.
« Suffering is not good for the soul, unless it teaches you to stop suffering. »
He couldn’t see exactly why it applied to him, but the lady had seemed so authoritative about that, that he had agreed and felt like thanking her.
The parcel had come a bit unexpected to the Lord, though he was quite artful in hiding his emotions, Bill could say. He had questioned him about the lady, but Bill had not dared to share with him the thing about the suffering. Actually the Lord looked in pretty good shape considering the age he was likely to be. He pretended to be a bit incapacitated, but Bill would have bet that if he had fallen from a window, he would have landed on his feet as a cat.
Speaking of which, their old cat with its worn-out blackish fur was a bit freaky too. Bill had felt at times he could hear it answer the Lord’s gibberish.
But all in all, that was easy money, and he thanked the opportunity to be able to do these paintings while the winter was coming.
Now was something else. He almost startled when he was opened the big entrance door, to be revealed an improbable shape, two or three heads taller than him. It took him a short while to recognize the smile of the children’s nurse, topped by a funny hat that made him laugh heartily, after the initial shock was dissipated.
— Hahaha, sorry, that was unexpected… he managed to say to Jacqueline, who was not unaccustomed to these odd kinds of reactions.
— Not to worry she said with a slight French accent. Monsieur and Madame Wrick have come back from their trip to Mogadishu, and you will be able to have their portraits done. They will stay here for a few weeks…
Linda and Peregrine Wrick were Cuthbert and India Louise proud (and a bit insouciant) parents, Lord Wrick had explained without much more details. Peregrine was the son of Lord Wrick’s only son, Sean Doran Wrick, but Bill had felt some restrain to ask about Sean Doran, as the Lord had seemed a bit umbrageous only speaking his name.
— Oh… said Bill who did not expect them to come back so quickly.
Appendix: The Wrick family tree
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Jacqueline Bleomelen was a strict yet very affectionate nanny. Her Breton name being barely pronounceable by the English speaking kids she had at her charge, she was most of the time simply called Nanny.
Once, one of the rude kids from a previous home where she had been serving an atrociously callous French Count, had called her an Old Gibbon, referring to her wrinkled face. But she had a very light-hearted nature, and wouldn’t show any hint of taking offense.
Better, she liked the association with the playful and ingenious apes, and kept the moniker as it was more easily pronounced by the English kids she had in charge, and made them laugh that they could be so irreverent without facing punishment.
For special occasions, Jacqueline was wearing a funny costume that made the children often wonder why she had put some funny hat with little moth-feelers loose on her chin, but that, she had explained was a traditional dress from her homeland of Brittany.
Tonight, Jacqueline, or Nanny Gibbon, was having a funny dream, but perhaps that have been because she had been very excited by that excerpt she had read before going to sleep. As she was very pious, every night before going to bed, she would read a random quote of the Bible.
Last night it had been the Old Testament, from the Book of Joshua. It was about the conquest of the Promise Land, and talked about a king from Hazor named Jabin…
And in her dream, Jabin was a strange looking man, lost in the middle of ruins, who wanted to contact a woman about discoveries he had made in the Promise Land. He had found an entrance to a cave that had befuddled him. He hadn’t ventured too far into the cave, but anytime he had, he had found it impossibly deep and wide. So he wanted to share that discovery with that woman, but she was flying around in a parrot-coloured ballet tutu, on top of a three-humped flying camel…
Even the rigorous Jacqueline couldn’t repress a laugh at the unlikely images that her tired mind had produced.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
This morning, Fiona and Quintin had a small impromptu chat —or rather, prompted by the story they were all weaving, that Archie, the puppet black panther, had been telling them last week-end that it was a magic connection between all of them…
Quintin: Your story was great!
Fiona: Thank you
So was yours.Have you written any more since I last looked at the story?
Quintin: no, I’m not that much inspired… I even considered to wrap in up in a way, but seeing you were all drawing so much from it, I think I will leave it open ever after…
Fiona: no, wrap it up if you feel.
I have drawn what I wanted. I will go and blow up the cave if we don’t finish it
Quintin: Ahahaha! Don’t restrict yourself
Fiona: When you started the Malvina story, did you have an idea where it would go, or did you pick that one because you had no idea?
Quintin: This one nagged me because there were many people I felt behind it and I did not know how to get them to show up and make their presences known. And I felt that it was loose enough too, to allow people to jump into it; and there was your initial interest in the picture
Fiona: The endearing dragons…
Quintin: Yeah…
But I had strictly no idea about the rest. It was just a bet, on luck…
That’s funny, because I had a strange impression of a little girl yesterday, in a futuristic city, named something like Janice , and it was like she knew now what she wanted to do, and it was something similar to that, something like creating worlds for other people, in which they could have fun, or heal, or explore things…
Fiona: And did she have any impression of what form that could take? Like books, or games or what…
Quintin: No, it was much more “real” in fact…
Fiona: you know like the card-captor game which I suppose is interactive, so real
Quintin: Yeah, perhaps a bit like that, yes; or like creating a ball of energy in which people can be drawn and experience as they will. It’s only a translation, but that’s the idea… in a way, that’s very similar to a game or a book, but only that it just feels totally “real”
Fiona: So a little bit like I have done with the story, to resolve something
Quintin: yeah, exactly, or with your paintings
Fiona: It can be really useful to take on other personas to do that, even like in drama type situations, being someone else…
Quintin: Yeah, people can unleash their imagination.
And I think there are still lots of things that we can expand in this universe in fact, not only related to the cave…
Fiona: such as? eggsamples?
Quintin: You said it! The eggs and relationships with dragons, all the magical artifacts or creatures. Didn’t you want a baby dragon?
Fiona: Yeah, I told you I did, but you just said some riddle!
Quintin: Did I? That’s not like me
Fiona: Ahahhaha! It is you to the core
Quintin: LOL, damn me!
Fiona: Well, that is a bit strong, but …
Quintin: Ahahahahah. I said you would have to earn his trust? (or hers, for that matter)
Fiona: I can’t remember the eggsact wording, I think I had to work for it though, like you weren’t just handing out dragons on a plate
Quintin: It could bound with you very strongly and help you unravel your unknown magical powers. It’s not just a creature, it’s a complex personality, you cannot just take it like a puppy. There is a sharing between the two…
Fiona: So are you going to allocate baby dragons to people or what? Or shall I just go and find an egg that no one knew was there
Quintin: Ahahah, no, they will not be allocated, they will choose their own partners
Fiona: Ahahaha, one minute you say it is my story! And now you are back in control
Quintin: Ahahaha, the story has a willing of its own too…
Try to do what you want, it’s not a matter of control ; it’s just you’ll know what clicks and what does not…
Quintin: And actually, I don’t think everyone will be interested in dragons…
Fiona: How does a dragon help one learn magic powers?
Quintin: It’s just because there is an openness between the two; let me find something for you, that Elias (you know, Michaela’s partner), has told to me and Yann, when we had them on the phone last month.
Elias : I would express to you that, as you focus your energies with each other, and you allow yourselves to merge and feel into each others’ energies, you may in actuality each discover some obstacles that the other may not necessarily be aware of yet, and you can share that with each other, and therefore facilitate your interactions even further.
Fiona: And how having a baby dragon could help unleash our magic powers then?
Quintin: It helps because it reinforces your trust in your own abilities to connect. It’s not directing, it’s a sharing and exploration for both of them; that’s why they are picky. As you would be picky too, knowing you would share together all the darkest corners…
Fiona: I am not sure if i have dark corners
Quintin: it was a metaphor
Fiona: ahahahhahahahahahah
Fiona: I know, so was mine
Quintin: ahahahahah
Fiona: I was thinking I feel really accepting of myself
Quintin: Yeah, that’s the point in the little adventure before you meet it.
You have shown your trust in yourself and in your abilities, and your self-centeredness, which is essential, for the dragon doesn’t want a frail personality. Because he drops his defenses too when he shares and bonds.
Fiona: Well I think it sounds scarey now, what if no dragon picked me…
Quintin: There will be instant recognition. And you don’t “need” a dragon actually, that’s what is important: it’s a catalyst, nothing more, nothing less…
Fiona: True.
Quintin: Like Arona managed to sneak into the cave without giving the answer to the riddle (egg-sitingly) because it mattered not to her, whatever the outcome, she was directing of herself.
Fiona: I felt like I have pictures now to assist me. I link strongly to pictures as a quick reference when I start to feel something like a negative emotion, for instance I may start to worry about how I am going to have enough money, or whatever, and I could quickly link to the spider picture
Quintin: you mean, you create an imagery, right? That is something which I like in your stories and emails; even though it is not necessary to create imagery, it’s always so entertaining, like having these funny creatures pop in the cave!
Fiona: Ahahahaha yes
Quintin: And also, in creating imagery, it helps you seeing it in a more neutral way
Fiona: I suppose it is just a quick trigger for the desired belief. I can link in quickly with the child, when I start to feel left out, for example.
Quintin: yeah, beliefs as an alphabet or a palette, neutral, but that can create words and sentences or images. And the imagery of the child was very similar for me, to that of the playfulness picture
Fiona: Yeah, I know… That’s what I said to you with the playfulness picture
Quintin: Of course, you know
Fiona: That I related most to the figure of blue hat… and big feet
Quintin: Ahahaha, stomping on the poor key-fish
Fiona: Nearly…
Quintin: Have to go now, thank you for this enjoyable conversation
Fiona: See you!
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Arona eventually woke from her sleep, still tangled in the images from her dreams. Unable to remember these images she was left feeling as though she were adrift in a boat on the ocean, not caring where the wind and waves may take her.
She had no feeling that morning. It was as though a door had closed in her mind, shutting out the part that could feel. She did not know, nor care, whether she was shutting out joy or sorrow, only that some part of her wanted to be alone.
She remembered the words of the older woman who had sat with her and soothed her to sleep. Or was she already asleep? Was the woman a dream?
Use your magic, she had said.
When she was young, in the Village, magic had come easily to Arona. When did it end?. She screwed up her eyes trying to concentrate. It hadn’t ended all at once. Did it start to end with the cloak her parents had given her?
Arona shook her head briskly and thoughts, like leaves in the wind, lifted and fell back to earth again in new formations.
The candle still burned brightly and her attention was drawn to the heavy wooden door, knowing she could not put it off any longer. In her bag of treasures was a key. It had been given to her at the beginning of her 21 st year, as was custom in the Village. It was no surprise to her that it fitted the lock perfectly.
Thank you for having me room, she said as she left.
No, thank YOU, replied the sleepy glukenitch.
The door led directly into another space, larger, brighter. She could sense someone there, but not in solid form. It was a beautiful woman who Arona felt an immediate affinity with, and then a strange sadness came unbidden.
Why sad?
I have no clue answered Arona briskly, quickly shutting the door back on these pesky emotions.
You always know, just feel it
So Arona closed her eyes tightly and allowed herself to feel the answer.
Because you know who you are, and it made me realise I have no idea who I am.
Mmmmmmm, said the woman, maybe you would care to look at my new paintings. Actually they are some of yours.
Intrigued, Arona felt this would be a suitable distraction and she looked with much interest.
The first painting was of a child, in a beautiful meadow of flowers. The child appeared to be completely absorbed, concentrating on a small blue butterfly which had lighted on her finger.
The picture itself moved and changed shape as though it were a portal to another living, breathing world. In the corner of the picture were some other children who seemed to be playing happily together.Arona, who had felt immediately connected with the young child frowned.
Doesn’t the little girl feel left out?
Go in, said the woman, Go inside the picture and feel the answer.
Oh, and you might want to leave your cloak behind.
So Arona did, and she became the child, but also stayed herself, observing the scene. She felt the child’s happy fascination in her connection with the butterfly. Not just the butterfly. She could feel her connected with the earth, and the gentle breezes and the beautiful flowers … The child was deeply contented, absorbed in the moment, moving happily with the flow of her interest.
I remember feeling like that, thought Arona, before the magic went.
She gently drew the child’s attention to the other children and felt the flow of energy between them. The child was so sure of who she was and where she wanted to be, and Arona could feel the loving acceptance of her playmates.
As the child’s attention went to the others, one of the children looked up and came running over. They sat together and laughed at some funny rabbits which had appeared in the meadow. Arona returned to the cave.
You look troubled
Well, Arona felt a little perplexed. It’s all very well playing with butterflies and rabbits in a meadow, but it is not terribly practical.
On the contrary, perhaps it is very practical. Would you like to see another of your paintings?
Suspended gracefully between two posts was a beautiful, glistening spider web. Little drops of rain hung like jewels on a chain. An enormous spider waited patiently in the shadows. As Arona watched a small insect happened at that moment to be caught, and the spider began to creep along the delicate lines.
Arona shuddered a little. I might not jump into that one .
The woman laughed, Use your magic Arona. Weave your magic web and let it all come to you.
Oh you are the second person to tell me to use my magic. An old lady came to me in my dreams, I think.
Well I gave her the same advice, years ago.
More damn riddles, Arona thought to herself, and the woman laughed.
One final painting of yours I would like to show you. It is beautiful is it not?
Arona stared mesmerised for a moment, and then leapt right in.
She sat among an audience, captivated by the dancers on the stage ahead. Beautiful music played and it reminded Arona of the music she had heard earlier. The dancers leapt and twirled and Arona was enraptured.
Dance Arona, she heard the woman’s voice
I can’t dance like that, I’m not good enough.
It doesn’t matter
And Arona could not hold back any longer and entered the body of one of the dancers. She did not know the dance so she made up her own steps, and strangely this seemed to fit perfectly with the other dancers.
Back in the cave the woman seemed to be listening to something Arona did not think she could hear.
Things are shifting she said
Oh lordy, are they said Arona, What should I do now?
Feel the answer
Arona felt. I am very hungry, eggceptionally so.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
A middle-aged man was looking upon her when Illi woke up.
— Where am I? Who are you?, she asked a bit uncomfortable, her body swollen from the many bumps she had had in her recent adventures.
— Don’t move too much, answered the man, I found you near the gulch, you were exhausted and delirious. Actually, you can thank my dogs for having found you, though you were so anxious that you still found the strength to run away from them…Illi smiled faintly.
— And, I’m Huÿgens.
— Thank you for your hospitality, finally said Illi, who was not accustomed to such kindness from the people of this land, especially towards her kind.
— Don’t mention it, that’s all natural, said Huÿgens. You know, my dogs have found you near a hole where my son had fallen some time ago. He had been lucky enough not to break his bones, because we humans are less prone to acrobatics than your kind… but well, I would have appreciated that someone take care of him, if he had been in the same predicament.
— I don’t have children, said Illi dreamily, that’s also why I left my tribe, I wanted to live a free life… What’s his name?
— Írtak, answered the stocky man with a hint of pride in his smile. It means “arrow head” in the Old Speech…
— That’s lovely, smiled Illi, feeling now much more comfortable on the rough bed.
— Now, take some rest. There is some pruidgee in the bowl here, if you want some, it’s made with milk of my langoats. That’ll make you stronger. If you need anything, just howl. I won’t be far.
— Thank you, answered Illi with gratitude.In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Arona was lost. She had been lost for quite some time now and had got over the initial surprise this realisation had given her. It was not very often now that she questioned her decision to leave the others. She had tired of their endless journeying, always in circles, always moving and yet never seeming to move beyond the confines of the small village.
One day she told them she was leaving. She wasn’t even sure if they heard her but still she set off, wearing her heavy black cape and carrying a small bag of her most treasured possessions.
Arona had not been sure of the cape, it was so heavy, yet she feared the cold nights and loved the security of it’s warmth. It had been a gift from her parents, a long time ago, when she was just a child. Wear this cape and one day it will bring you happiness, her mother had said.
Her mother said many odd things and had left on a journey of her own a many years ago, so Arona had never really been able to find out what she meant. Magically the cape had grown with her body, moulding itself to her.
The worst of the winter cold was over now and Arona found the cape almost unbearably heavy at times, yet she could not quite bring herself to leave it behind. Sometimes she would take it off, relishing in the lightness and feeling the warmth of the sun on her body. She always put it back on though, just in case she needed it one day.
Arona pulled out a well worn map from her bag. The map had been a gift from a travelling wizard who visited the village a few years ago. Arona had given him food and shelter and he repaid her kindness with the map. He seemed to think it was quite generous of him and Arona had thanked him politely. To be honest it was not really much use to her as she had no sense of direction, not even knowing which way north was, and not knowing where she was going anyway. She preferred just to follow whichever way seemed lightest at the time. But it was handy having the map because when she met others on the journey who asked her where she was going, she would wave her map at them. It made her look good, she thought, and saved her from too many questions.
That day as she sat on a rock pretending to ponder her map she became aware of a faint sound of music in the distance. She had not heard music for such a long time. Once on her journey she had passed a wandering minstrel and begged him to play for her so that she could dance. In exchange she had lent him her cloak for a while to keep him warm.
She felt the music beckoning her.
Fiona loved Quintin’s drawings. They had a feel of magic and lightness and she was entranced by them. They were like the children’s films she had been watching lately, with many layers to them and touching something inside her mind, a distant memory which felt strangely close.
Her own drawings felt heavy to her, and she had made a decision not to paint again unless she felt inspired. She did not really understand inspiration, only knew that she was tired of trying so hard.
