So many people talking about the colour pink.
Easy on the eye,fun and a welcoming pool of fuschia hues to dive into and sit and think.
I’ve been working with colours all day long.
Grading vintage jewellery to sell and make a bit of money – lift my family out of the stoked,crimson barbeque,by using a non-metallic tong.
Yellow bangles, Purples and golds, Owls that shimmer and Cleopatra looking more exquisite now she has aged even more.
Walking up to work – I whirled up the hill in a tornado of green.
Reached my destination . I had to check that the colour hadn’t tinged me to my very core.
Life has turned into a midnight Dynasty blue- we photographed a bracelet – summoning up a vein of Royalty – plump and ready to imbue.
Retro, retro and yet,more retro. I wish I could keep all the colours to wear but my bank account really is in dire need of a couple crispy notes , to be honest, it could do with more than a few.
Red. -Ming -Communist alert. Funny, how I want to stop working ,need to.
Yet,like a drone, I keep seeking for bijous nectar.
Purple teeth to brush away the bacteria plaque ,harbouring critters found breeding, in between . I blame the dark, chocolate, kinder egg.
Oh, so that is how I got my wrist fracture.
Off with your head!
White, purity, calm. All innocent thoughts going on here. I carefully place the mini dream catcher -all browns and turquoises- over my Bella Bee’s bed.
No more nasty dreams about monsters . The ones that drive her from her slumber in wild gardens ,playing with fairies.
Those monsters have now been cast out from her head and indeed even her sweet,minny mouse themed bed.
Caress me – I feel dislocated – cloth- like – I’m coming apart – no substance – coming apart at the very seams
Tethered like an old knotted, black cord necklace. This catastrophising – all or nothing thinking is driving me into exile. Into an exotic land so distant from my usual soothing cucumber and luxurious Aloe Vera creams.
Drift. Drift. Drift.
Let it all go.
Swift. Swift. Swift.
The tailor down the road has just turned his shop sign from Open to Closed.
I’m forced to heave – expelling out vexed air – I huff and I puff and I blow!
Detonate – must I implode in order to recover ?
Will it ever be safe to come out from under that soft, down quilt cover?
Trust is a hue, I can’t even summon with a lacklustre lamp.
Rubbing abrasively, this genie was set free in haste, a conspiracy against me. Not even one wish manages to roll down the takeoff departure ramp.
He loves you
He loves another.
Blue…. now that is a serious hue – I prefer mine with a melody , a saxophone. Dew, be a cool cat and throw in a soft mew.
Don’t let me miss my last cue.
Come to me honey, I’m ready to be a sugar mama.
*SILLYNESS inspired by Grading jewellery and colours and more colours and reading other people’s blogs about the colour pink. For the record, I don’t want to be a sugar mama. *