Hmm. Two hours' sleep. Not sure how
well I'll function today. Woke at two, with sleep just vanishing
behind its red curtain. Got up, washed the dishes, put on laundry. If
I'm to be sleep deprived later today, all the more reason not to let
the chores steal a march on me.
Now it's nine o'clock. Milk-white sky:
not a breath of wind. A perfunctory caw from an unseen crow. The spin
of the washing machine, finishing off its third load. I close my eyes
and sleep surges up: my head nods. I open my eyes and type again.
There's a dream off the starboard bow, a dream of building this house
into something beautiful, and crows walking gravely through it. Ah.
That's George MacDonald: the raven librarian. Corvids do walk with
their hands behind their backs, usher-like. The Spanish is getting
away from me, I can't keep up with myself; what's to do?
Perhaps to bed again. Just for a bit.
6 comments:
Hopefully tonight will be better.
Thanks Phil! Bound to be.
The George Mac Donald of the Curdie stories?
Caw Caw
Yes. Lilith, unless it's Phantastes, has a librarian in it who is sometimes a raven.
'There's a dream off the starboard bow'
I like that!
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