ola, sun!

I do not why there are scripts and why there are stories and why some stories work for you and some make no sense. I do not know why you want what you want but take what are you given because it is the grown up choice and you end up convincing yourself you didn't want it to start with. I don't know what lies in heart of star I don't know what makes people allergic to kiwi but crazy about green in general. I don't know how many times you have to knock before someone answers and how many streets you have to walk before you reach the end of map. 

I don't know why so many educated people choose to live as if outside of body but still prefer smoked salmon instead of egg & mayo triangle sandwich. I do not know how come there is so many of us and all of us still feel lonely at times. I don't know why you feel struck by lightning when the skies are perfectly clear. I do not know what is exact definition of integrity. I do not know why some stuff makes perfect sense and why other stuff makes perfect sense as well but in the other group of people. I also don't know what will happen. 

Next:

I know people like stories. I know that people feel stories. I know what I want. I know how to make grownup choice. I convince myself I do not want, when I am in the heart of star. I know I like green in general but don't mind kiwi. I knocked four times, each time louder than the one before it. When no one answered, I walked the street to the end of the map and started dancing the new avenue. It smelled of ginger and cinnamon. The scales of dragon were its hard shoulder, warm but traitorous. And the storm wind blew hard. My hands moved in the rhythm of clouds forming. It was wild. But then again, I knocked four times, each time louder than the other. And no one noticed.

My body played a trick on me so I opted for smoked salmon on a bed of creme fraiche plus dill. I was alone but didn't feel lonely which was very new and exciting. Therefore: the fear dipped its bony fingers to the bottom of my very merry core. The storm brought the lightning, as storms do. So that part was ok. I found the inn at the end of the world again. And the child came forth alone.

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In today's talk in Watershed, Jeanette Winterson said that when you feel you are breaking down, you can go to the closest mirror and start reading poetry while watching your face changes to something you feel comfortable with.  So I put Dresden Dolls on. 

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                                                                                                      Touch the wooden gate in the wall you never saw before