There was a man called Fynn, and he loved you very much- this strange and beautiful sprite that came into his life and changed it -and mine-. The book he wrote about you was a great part of my early teen years- my mother gave it to me when she knew I needed direction.
This, (my favourite passage) grasped my imagination, visually and atmospherically:
"Outside that Baker's shop in fockland on a foggy November night I had the unusual experiance of seeing a child born. After the laughter had quietened off a bit, but while her little body was still thrumming like a violing string, she tried to say something, but it wouldn't come out properly. She managed a 'You - You - You - .' After some little time and a great deal of effort she managed 'You love me don's you?' Even had it not been tru I could not have said 'No' to save my life; true or false, right or wrong, there was only one answer. I said 'Yes'. She gave a little giggle, and pointing a finger at me, said 'You love me' and then broke into some primitive gyration around the lamp-post, chanting 'You love me. You love me. You love me.'
Today's dress was designed after a night of new theatre and exitement- and when, in the drizzling rain, I saw beautiful eucalypts bathed in the yellow light of streetlights I knew what my dress was going to be.Winter (although not technically here) is definately rearing her rainy head.
All my love,
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