Kirstie Sivapalan
Enough. Enough, haven't you got enough stuff Haven't you filled that gaping hole inside Haven't you stymied that gnawing lust and pride? Enough. Enough, don't you realise you are just not that tough? Haven't you softened just a little bit Haven't you fed all the demons in your deep, dark pit? Enough. Enough, can't you… Continue reading Enough
"I have conversed with the Spiritual Sun, I saw him on Primrose Hill" William Blake It was one of those days today where the clouds are low and almost impenetrable, both at times gloomy and glum. The trees looked more like stone statues than living beings, placed on top of a ground that was hard… Continue reading The Hope of Winter
I promised myself that I would work on my book a little each day. It didn't matter how much, just something new. As is my zone of comfort I then developed a new daily ritual and included working with the planets and their aspects, and their corresponding Sabian symbols*. So far so good as I… Continue reading Taking flight
"The place where words don't work" This powerful line is one of many exquisite literary morsels that I uncovered in Donna Tartt's novel The Goldfinch. This particular phrase, a good hundred pages in, was one I particularly savoured, even with its ironic bitter aftertaste. A place where words don't work. Why would someone who works… Continue reading The place where words don’t work
She saw him and smiled. He returned her smile and a flicker of love entered his broken heart. His world-weary gaze became a glow of hope as his eyes met hers. The words spoken to him in there steel glass office “there is no longer a job for you here” hurting a little less. He… Continue reading Her smile
Writing and M.E. 