Remembering How to Heal When the sculptor found her, she was sick. She just sat and stared blankly out at the hill, and it felt as if she had been through much trauma. She wore thick, stuffy, drab clothing, she was in mourning. The bad spirits swirled around her; the dense pines of grief and neglect surrounded her and encroached on her, keeping her always in the darkness. The sculptor immediately wanted to help her. The sculptor saw a faint glimmer of hope in her eyes and knew that she could be revived. She was dirty and cold, so we took her in, washed her and cared for her. We brought her healing honey wine and pure living water for her malaise. Her condition improved a little, but something was still stuck. She needed more movement. There was only one thing for it. The sculptor called the vicar. The vicar rode in like a cowboy as if coming to help a wounded cow, and yet riding on a breeze of beauty. He helped her to open her eyes to see life anew...
How I met Carol Being surround by artists and literary cultured people like everyone one of you made me think a lot of what I wanted to read tonight, I can’t quote any poets of writers because reading is not a strong hobby for me, but what I can do is to tell the story of how I met Carol. I believe that everything started 25 years ago in a little island in the Mediterranean sea called Ibiza, I know more about what I call my island through the stories and experiences of other people more than my own, always knew it was a really cool and fun place to be from by the reaction of people as I was answering the classic question of Where are you from? … but one of the most satisfying reactions I got it from Carol, some time early last year in the open day at Plumpton College I was dressed in a traditional Georgian attire serving some orange wines to the brave that dare to taste it, Carol and I where chatting for a bit before she asked me where I was from?, I am from Ibiza, I sai...
I remember dreaming that Carol and I were in my mothers garden. There was a mighty storm and we were watching massive trees all around us falling. We would make exasperated/disappointed noises whenever one fell - as if saying ‘oh no, there’s another one gone’. We had to dodge them and aim to find a place in the garden where we wouldn’t be hit if a tree fell. At one point å ‘thought’ that a particular tree, a skinny pine like the ones near Lilac Cottage) would fall and just as I thought it - it fell. Two: a dream I’ll never forget. I was standing on a shore with Juliet and Cherry, two prolific women in my life, both academics. We were looking out at two pillars in the ocean. Atop them were two males peacocks tied down with heavy chains. We swam out to them, the three women that we were, and they helped me to untie the peacocks so they could escape upwards into the sky. The Game. It’s a shortened group ‘essay’, written in the ‘heat’ of the festival moment: Title:...
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