Source: c100instudio.blogspot.com Every morning for the last eleven days, my pen is poised in frustration above the page (i.e. screen), paralyzed with this 'what the f@!k, am I really gonna do this again?' terror... Each day, I start anew...a fresh page. I'm thinking once I have about 15-20 pages, I'll put them all in a jar and pick randomly. It seems just as plausible to me as many of the other stupid rules in our society! (this could be another symptom of my madness, Tanya:) And today the pink fountain waters in the Halifax Commons were the inspiration : The villagers in the French medieval hamlet of Provenance regarded their stone fountains as the embodiment of their innocence and with the sort of reverence that Hollywood actors today hold for fame, youth and plastic surgery. So you can imagine their combined shock and dismay on that lazy Sunday morning, as parishioners filed towards the church for mass, and one by one, their gaze fell upon the fountains’ waters. Overnight, the waters had turned salmon-pink. The distinct aroma of sin flavoured the air . . . (The rest of the page. . .)
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December 2015
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