Where we begin may be a concealed paradise; verdant, hydrant, saltant. Were we lain by a solitary God beneath the leaves, among the blades of early gardens. Or were we born of water? Carried on the plume of a wave, shipwrecked among the sea-traffic of mermaids and serpent-sirens. Did you roll in saltant joy towards me on the sea-bed? Were you given to me to satisfy my loneliness?
Well wherever we began, here we are. Let the stars shiver in the nervous sky. It is blogging time, time to doodle, spool and play.