you were in the woods and klo was afraid of getting lost. i am now in my room watching a movie called 'red shoes' from 1947?something? i don'tknow. heartbreak is a foot. that much is clear. but we'll proceed. we always proceed don't we. we cannot help it. in situations like these, like being lost in a forest, i imagine we would want the company of as many woodsprites and fairies as possible. but barring that the trees speaking to me for company would do. as long as i wasn't lured into the dark by some horrible portent, curse or looming witch. because there is always that to be concerned about in any story. unless one doesn't care for the imagination. that saves one from a great many things.
today pen while i was in yoga i imaged myself on my mountain staircase sitting and enjoying the sun having finally come out after a long rain. the air is still cold and crisp but the sun illumines. i am still however, a long way from the bottom, whereever that may be. its still too high to see. of course since writing the above paragraph some 2 hours have past and the heroine, well it doesn't look good for her in the red shoes. quite the antithesis of dorothy and her red shoes, who made it back to kansas where she appreciated things and didn't take anything for granted anymore. its close to making one a feminist, all these women being dragged about by men and desire and if not men and desire, society and impossible choices. because i won't spoil it but we all know what awaits them in the end always...and if its not a husband or a convent or the madhouse i can't say where. anyway my mind is trying to get at something, but i've had the wrong diet for arriving at deep thoughts and my feet are cramping. and they're cold.
so its best to get away from this desk where i've been lingering all day. there was one moment i laid on the grass but the sun kept vanishing and i had to keep moving further and further back toward the orange tree until it was impossible and i had to face the fact the sun was setting and go inside. nevermind that there was only .91c in my bankaccount. or the ponderance of lingering malodorousness in yoga spaces which necessitate copious amounts of incense. that was the sum of the day. tea. fruit. wonderings. popcorn. faraway places. and quiet whispers. something vague like the semblance of thought and nothing else but breath.