Bearing The Untold

For now, this is the someone I pour myself into. Thoughts and stories alike.

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I still think about this poem, all these years later

L’univers nous reprend, rien de nous ne subsiste / Cependant qu’ici-bas tout continue encor.

Triste, Triste, Jules Laforgue

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A dear friend introduced me to Tove Ditlevsen's poem 'There Lives a Young Girl in Me Who Will Not Die' and it has been on my mind ever since

Your dreams were flimsy, child, doomed to fail, Your innocence ruined by the truth you were told

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It’s nice to be learning things again

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‘We’re each of us alone, to be sure. What can you do but hold your hand out in the dark?’

~Ursula K Le Guin

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Reblog/Like this if you're a journal blog

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I wish I could remember to take note of all the wonderful quotations gracing the pages of the books I read. Sometimes something magical sticks with you though ✨

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That’s better

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More notes on a countrywoman.

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Finished Camp Nano. Check. Refused to look at any of it again for a week. Check.

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Get you some prompts. Write you some words. Forget the state of your NaNo story and just blather about nothing for a bit.

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Ramble ramble, watching the Librarians instead of planning for Camp Nanowrimo, ramble, my n’s look the same as my v’s… ramble.

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Trying out new handwriting styles always leads to about 15 minutes of neater handwriting before I revert back to my usual scrawl.

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Hello from sitting in front of Stargate all day! Indulging in astronomy to make me feel a bit less useless and writing about things I enjoy. I hope everyone else gets to have a chill day like this sometime soon.

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‘Comme le vie est triste et coule lentement’

How about some French poetry in messy handwriting because I feel the need to do something, anything at all else whilst watching telly?

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I don’t have access to enough daylight hours to take decent photos. As a result I seem unable to quit my addiction to the white balance tool. Shame I didn’t also edit out that word which I promise is meant to say ‘rocky’…

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On this icy Sunday I actually managed to wake up early enough to take a photo before then sun went away. I have the wordsmiths of all generations to thank for beautiful words that explain better how I feel sometimes.

To you. Whoever you are, I fear you are walking the walk of dreams

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How many times can I take the same picture, where this journal looks exactly the same? Except this issue features more handwriting styles for the purpose of noting down more Tolkien. Plus, loving all the leaves in the world, and being happy about chipper, spherical robots.