TGIF 🙏 The whole last week+ went relentlessly sideways. Wowza. Absolutely nothing worked out. And everyone fell apart, all at once, just when I was expecting to fall exhausted across a finish line and I'd have done it, gotten everyone to spring still alive and a place to sit and see each other again and laugh - and then my heartache could Just Be free inside me to rest.

Even heartaches get tired. Mine needs a month of Sunday naps.

But no rest, more grit required instead. (sigh)

I heard my mother say to Aaron that I had built this for him. Just like that, the knife 🔪. 

There is truth in that. But I rewrote 🪄 the story: Getting here was the result of a spell cast on the injured witch. Sick at heart almost to death, she fell unexpectedly in love with a djinn in the form of an ancient lost lover wearing her long unused name. He called himself Huckleberry. With a kind of bruised-pink haze, the djinn blew desire into her lungs. Just a couple gulps of that showed her that she had not been breathing for years. It was painful, waking up to breathing, but she was moved. Literally. And then like magical beings (including myself) are wont to do: he vanished. His voice faded, body disintegrated, he dispersed into a fog that lifted from her and drifted elsewhere. And she found herself alone but Alive in front of a children's marching band in a place called Vegas. It happens.

Now, I need to conjure a life: I have to imagine a life I want to be in and then pull that into Reality by creating space for it. Physical space. Then, one hopes, personal capacity. And I have a new plan for how to get that done. One that relies on Olde Practical Magic pulled up from the ground itself, older than any djinn.

card of the day again, but now I think I know who that could be (not a dog) 🤞

the songtrack is about to be taken over (like a wish, I am giving it away) 

your place at my place - josh stone that gap can stay Empty, like every painting needs some blank