This short, dragging month has for the most part been defined by small birds outside—goldfinch, siskin—and by migraines, by a lot of work done rapidly and then days of aimlessness, by looking-towards but also away-from, and by all the surrounding rivers rising quickly within a short space of time.
Your lovely words, and the delightful, much-needed breathing room that so dependably comes with them, is something I've come to very much cherish. Many thanks for your refreshing, fortifying writing and be well.
Your lovely words, and the delightful, much-needed breathing room that so dependably comes with them, is something I've come to very much cherish. Many thanks for your refreshing, fortifying writing and be well.
Thank you, so much, for this incredibly kind note—I'm hugely glad some breathing room was provided.
"... and I have been finding myself envious of speechless things..."
Ella, you may already be familiar with this poem by Tomas Tranströmer, sharing here in case it's new to you :
Tired of people who come with words, but no speech
I made my way to the snow-covered island.
The wild does not have words.
The pages free of handwriting stretched out on all sides!
I come across the tracks of reindeer in the snow.
Speech but no words.
As always, thank you for your beautiful words, Ella! Something I've been meaning to ask: are you active on Goodreads?
Alas, no!