Happiness 9-11
kissing the handsome green toad; the moment before the curtain rises; soaring over Mount Perdu in the Pyrénées.
kissing the handsome green toad; the moment before the curtain rises; soaring over Mount Perdu in the Pyrénées.
retreating to the desert; fresh coffee by the sea; a field of wild chrysanthemums.
an encounter with dolphins; finding a golden apple: leaping high and landing on a lilypad
starfish at your toes; being granted the peacock feather; talking late into the night.
the mist rising over the cornfields at dawn; fulfilling a promise; the last fireflies.
from flower to fruit; Yemena-goddess of the ocean; seven ravens landing on the fence.
a bright red dragonfly landing on the quince; rubbing the lamp; being eager for more.
skimming over the pond; woken by the fragrance of moonflowers on your terrace; climbing to the top of the mountain and discovering it.
the robe falling open in the dark; a crystal glowing from the inside; waiting for a long time and then seeing it happen.
a blue moon in Pisces; shadow puppets and fireflies; crossing the Tarn Valley on the Millau Bridge.
the statue lifting her hand and touching your shoulder; being offered the letter on a silver platter; digging.
the seat of your pants sticky and bright from sliding down the rainbow; toys coming to life; a peacock feathers in the sun.
the stream meandering right up to your front door; traveling on the back of Old Sea Turtle; finishing the symphony.
dancing in the gazebo after everyone else has left; the cricket explaining things; rain after intense, hot sorrow.
discovering the underwater cave; seeking justice – finding mercy; crossing the plains before winter.
the owl whispering in your ear; the cactus blooming again; a strange noise that turns out to be a welcome surprise.
sunlight on piles of antique stained glass; gold glitter pouring upward from her palm; dancing during afternoon tea
In my editing practice, two words that writers overuse when they’re describing characters they want to impress you with are “beautiful” and “handsome.”
What, exactly, are they trying to say? What makes someone appear beautiful?
Especially irritating to me is when an author writes: “She used to be beautiful, but now she had a few wrinkles around her eyes…”
Argh. Irk. You’d be much better off saying,“She used to be twenty-two…” […]
cake and presents; playing pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey; coming to the end of the trail and deciding to go on.
a circular slant of light; finding yourself transported back in time; the kindness of strangers.
the sweetest crescent moon; papaya salad; stepping onto the gangplank.
her eyelashes resting on her cheeks; exploring the riverbed; being silly.