i've been antsy lately, feeling caged in, feeling this, feeling that. last week i thought my heart was broken. i cried and i watched tv and i stayed in bed and eight cousins became my book of choice. i felt like nothing was working, everything was changing, still, still, still, always, never stopping, even though i stopped, trying in my stopping to stop everything else, knowing despite my stillness that i needed an escape place, a panic room, somewhere to run.
enter the thief of quotations. that would be me, and that is my rabbit hole. i have just begun the fall, and you will think it not me, perhaps, until you begin to read. i have plans, but i will not rush the fall. i am unsure of everything except this: there will be quotations. and they will be about magic and truth and life. and there will be pictures. there will be stories and i am hoping there will be guests. it will be about writing. about words. there will be links and videos and songs and poetry. and i hope there will be you.
my personal stories will stay here, though no doubt sometimes the two will pass each other on the road. the thief, despite her name, will be more open, will share a bit more of the wonders of others. a bit of robin hood is in her blood.
she is here.
and she says hello.