BENEATH A DESERT MOON

¡Hola, mis amigos! (I don’t always greet y’all, maybe I should? I just get into the thick and thin of it and that’s kinda rude, innit? I mean, I care because you’re reading which is really sweet because it’s me, and you know, you’re still here – you guys make up a handful, and you make me happy.)

Because I was so incognito back then, you would’ve missed this – this year, I created/made up themes for every couple of months in the year (I divided my year into four parts, and not quarters). Each period was to tell a story by way of the content I would be covering and sharing on my blog etc. Except you know that it didn’t work out that way, I wasn’t actively working on any material; the ideas, of course, piled on and on and you know what went down. Nothing!

SO. What the illustration for this post is meant to be is an introduction to the story I wished to tell during the months of May, June and July called…

The Song of the Seamstress

As one could tell, the drawings are inspired by Mexico (a country I have never been to – but am really keen on visiting, soon) – the colours and clothing; some desert cactuses; the marigolds and roses; the ofrendas and sugar skulls etc.  The Song of the Seamstress also drew colourful and cultural inspirations from: cameo pendants; dulce de leche; floral embroidery; Frida Kahlo; la combinación de naranja y rosa; Lisbon (I really like this city; it’s colourful and so very warm – it makes me think of Cuba, Goa and Mexico, all at once!); Mother Mary; Pablo Neruda; ruffled clothing; the Día de los Muertos festival; Ugly Betty etc.

P.S. (Would you get a better idea if you saw this? It forms the display picture and cover photo for when I did publish this theme on Facebook and Twitter etc.) – This might be continued in the posts that are to come but it’s also December and so, I will be covering some other *fun* material (I haz ideas)! We’ll see.

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Artwork by Roanna Fernandes

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CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT

Glass houses ought to be carefully constructed (they must be); never having built one, myself – I wouldn’t know what it takes to make one. The ones I see in my mind’s eye – there’s light filtering in, making everything luminescent within (I very much like the glinting of gold metal ridges). But that’s a romantic way of looking at it. And as you and I know, there is a lot under the surface or even that that we see that we don’t, truly.

In a sense that is metaphoric maybe, I did try to build a glass house out of this space. I wanted everything to be and look perfect. After all this time away, I wasn’t sure I wanted to return. I still am uncertain. Is this over? The truth is: it might be. I mean, it is difficult to be articulate about this – I do want to start something new, however, over the past night and this morning… I felt something else, too. Volver.

There were feelings of angst and unrest amongst the colloidal particles settling around me. What use were the objects I was carefully tucking away? The book of stories I kept to myself? Was this glass house a home, and if so, what did it protect me from? I felt an untoward gaze upon me, anyway; I possessed no cloak of invisibility. Cobwebs formed, specks of dust everywhere – nothing I did felt good or worthy. I was too busy taking care of glitches, didn’t I say? Everything had to be perfect.

No more.

P.S. There are other one-sided conversations I would like to have; I should tell you now to expect a flurry of posts – as the weeks unfold.

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Artwork by Roanna Fernandes