Category: dreaming
death song
| November 25, 2008 | Posted by caroline under dreaming, freeform, storytelling, Uncategorized |
The trains are each arriving, one by one, they part ways with my eyes, we drag them along not looking too far, I wait for the smoke and I watch for the grind, I expect a stop and sudden halt, I wonder who it is this time and if they’ll write about it in the…
Every so often, I am propelled by the churning in my stomach.
| September 24, 2008 | Posted by caroline under dreaming, freeform, Uncategorized |
Every so often, I am propelled by the churning in my stomach. It is a fusion of bile and butterflies that makes me rush from the comfort of my back against my bed and write. It is the emerald green flush that follows the downpour and violence of pounding concrete on my ears, the hopscotch…
strange phenomenon, Queen and Yonge, Toronto
| May 14, 2008 | Posted by caroline under arts and literature, dreaming, freeform, lifestyle, myself, personal, storytelling, travels, Uncategorized |
I was sitting at the corner of Queen and Yonge today waiting for Mutton to meet me for dinner..it was rush hour, everyone was leaving work and I was reading the paper on a bench. Truthfully, I couldn’t concentrate, as there were too many fashionable clacking heels passing amidst the streetcars and out-of-place bicycles. I…
reading
| May 11, 2008 | Posted by caroline under arts and literature, dreaming, personal, storytelling, theories, Uncategorized |
i’m fairly smitten with milan kundera. i am not smitten by him the way i have been caught up in a fine balance, or shantaram, nor the way i whizzed through jhumpa lahiri and unaccustomed earth..they’ve got nothing on him. i wouldn’t say i’m drawn to him the way i was intrigued by gabriel garcia…
my idea of life is endless
| April 17, 2008 | Posted by caroline under dreaming, freeform, theories |
each day, we crack open a bottle of wine and talk about our lives. where we’re headed, where we’re at, and where we can’t wait to be…sometimes it spans time, events, realities and dreams..it’s a pretty huge spectrum. other times, it is derived from people..i want to be doing what she’s doing. not the same…
you are the one
| April 14, 2008 | Posted by caroline under dreaming, freeform, on identity |
the most precious statement made in “Unaccustomed Earth”, by Jhumpa Lahiri, is the comparison of death to a dark room in a photo lab. “It must be something like this”. I would hate to look at a picture of a person I’ve been close to, who’s died. All memories of them would dissipate, expressions, laughter…
freeform, spore
| March 19, 2008 | Posted by caroline under dreaming, freeform |
i’m putting you aside i’m letting you decide for this is how you wanted it this is what you meant for it all things silver were meant to turn gold and platinum was always best when sold all things make believe were said to stay dreams so if you mean to sleep i say, make…
2008
| January 19, 2008 | Posted by caroline under dreaming, freeform, Uncategorized |
when i get back to toronto, i’m going to make snow angels and drink loads of hot chocolate and blow hot air into cold air and watch it mix..i’m going to slide on the sidewalk ice, wear cute boots, complain about how i can’t feel my toes, take long evening walks wearing a different hat…
it must be beautiful outside…
| December 27, 2007 | Posted by caroline under dreaming, freeform, Uncategorized |
…like a scratchy sort of cloth that once held sparkles and littered them on everything it brushed up against…now threadbare. the kind of cloth that would leave its mark on your face and blush on your cheekbones..now faded. if u were to come in contact with this cloth, everyone would know, and no one would…
next come the vows..
| December 5, 2007 | Posted by caroline under dreaming, freeform, theories, Uncategorized |
i feel like success runs away quicker than the time it spends resting to catch its breath. in its purse, success carries confidence and security. for as long as success and achievement stand to take pictures, anything is possible, and nothing beats the heat of those flashing lights. but once it’s left, it’s so hard…
