Thursday, November 02, 2006

Blue is his favourite colour, although you wouldn't really know it; through most of his days, it's whatever's clean, and that most commonly turns out to be a concoction of black and khaki. As I slide the sweater over my head, I think of all the recent acquisitions for my closet: shades like cloudy Arctic ice, clear summer days, an English storm, the Delft harbour sky. I glance uncertainly in the mirror, and unlock and push back the door.

The pretty salesgirl turns around and spots me. "That looks great on you!" she enthuses. She's wearing a brown corduroy blazer, fitted pleasingly at the waist. "Blue is really your colour."

I touch the subtly tweedy wool; it hugs my body in a warm, comforting way. "Thanks." I smile. "I think so too."

posted at 7:47:29 am

December 11, 2006   05:02 PM PST
That sweater, alas, is a tad small now. Not too small that I can't wear it, but too small to be entirely modest.
November 3, 2006   05:24 PM PST
yep. so cute
November 2, 2006   12:37 PM PST
For me, the best way to say "I love you" is without words.

Don't know why, but when I read this, I 'saw' your love as smoke running through your veins...soft, subtle, sensual, alive, as much a part of you as your senses.

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Glo'ri'a'na, noun:
1. An alternative form of "Gloria."
2. As "Americana" defines itself as artefacts of American culture, "Gloriana" consists of the artefacts of my culture.


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