I write every day whether I like it or not. In about three years I'll stop.
http://www.dandossantos.com/gallery/illustrations/full_poison_sleep.jpg
She recalled parts of her death. None of those recollections helped her understand why she died. None of them coincided with the story the ER told. And none of them made sense given that she was, in fact, alive.
Dawn Smith knew her name and knew she went by Cresta more often than she went by Dawn.
Obviously I’ll be working forward with this tomorrow. I’d hoped to get further-er today but I’ve didn’t.
Day 318
http://gorillaartfare.com/2008/11/the-bell/
Charnwyn’s coat tails dangled well below the branch she squatted on. I loved that jacket. It was maroon and finely textured—especially the embroidered cuffs. She wore morning and night. She wore it each day. It hung well on her and in many ways defined her to those she’d just met but I wished I’d found it in that shop in Telash not her. I wished I wore it instead.
Next to her, Franwyn sat cross legged on the tentacle-like branch like imbalance held no definition. These heights never posed a problem for her the way they did me. Her sword lay in her lap…I think she may have even been asleep. With her peacefully slack face and doe-eyed expression knowing if she slept or merely drifted off during a conversation with lots of words or saw an especially colorful bird was hard to determine.
“…Conni? Conwyn?” I realized Charnni called my name about the time her voice went from a hushed whisper to a harsh one. Though our height gave us nearly all the safety we needed keeping quiet still made sense.
:Sorry,: I signed back.
“I think we’re fine up her. We can talk—a little. What are you sulking about this time?”
I added some sway to the line of the hunting bell to restart the pendulum of its movement. It swung a few more times. I started to answer but Charnni shifted her position on the vine-branch to look out of our little circle of light. I could see her unbanded breasts through the gaping sleeve of that jacket.
“I wish I could get away with that.”
“Again? Really? Conni, going unbanded, on a hunt, in the forest, alone with my sisters is about the only advantage these little things give me. Shut up already.”
“Hush ladies. Something climbs up,” Franny said.
Day 311
Apologies to those who grow tired of my protracted not so much writing as meta-writing. Here I go again today with more of the same. The one day later proximity of this inspiring painting will play into whatever I may pick out of yesterday’s brainstorming:
http://www.linesandcolors.com/2008/10/15/lucong-cong-hua-lu/
She’d a perplexed look like a lover’d puffed a breath in her face for a laugh or as if a better lover’d just left her. She appeared this way always. Rather, this manner formed the basis for each one of her other moods—startled but content, startled but vexed, startled but furious—though she’d never had a lover.
The blushing alabaster of her skin struck a wonderful contrast with her dark eyes when you could find them under her fluttering black hair.
This wasn’t how she was introduced to us, just how we recall her. Mid-morning, the day after we celebrated Onnaku’s first catch, she drifted inward from Outward on two lashed logs. Enough blood still rinsing into the saltwater from a gash on her leg that a cloud of [little sharks] orbited her float. She clung to what remained of her left hand and never once asked for the help we provided.
Day 302
