Bedding

I am snug in my bed, which is not a bed but a collection of geographies: plain and rocky cliff with clouds floating at the edge of the canyon. I have long been excavating this site; I have long counseled myself, "Patience! Next year we shall secure the find."

Last night there were many beds -- a house with ill-fitting doors and undiscovered rooms. I sought to take my new roommate on a tour: "There are several rooms we do not even use. I'm not sure why." But they were suddenly difficult to find. What we could was claimed and occupied: desks covered with rustling papers, dipping beds with flowery duvets.

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Happiness is shamelessly beautiful art



















provided by a shamelessly beautiful friend:



















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I can't stay long from curls. Yesterday I had a breakthrough: by adding essence of calendula, I achieved a light-brown curl the tightness of my pinky that lasted for thirty minutes. Tomorrow I will resume chromosomal manipulations. The answer must lie in a combination of genetics and alchemy!!!