Longing lives alone at the top of a lighthouse. She has blue-green eyes that change color according to the moods of the sea. She wears faded silk dresses with tattered edges and a fishing net around her shoulders as a shawl. Her hair is braided with mussels and sundial seashells. She loves the music of wooden flutes and wind chimes. Her long and slender fingers pluck the strings of harp and cello. Dancing to flamenco guitar gets her blood moving. Scattered amid her garden of towering hollyhocks and foxgloves are her collections of green and blue beach glass, antique weather vanes, and gnarly driftwood. Pearlescent abalone shells and moss line the walkway. Her favorite food is aged cheese served with kelp pickled in a saltwater brine accompanied by crusty bread, and a hardboiled seagull’s egg. For dessert, she savours a glass of port with a bar of 79% dark chocolate. Her home brims typewriters, each one unfurling a poem to which she adds a line each day. Every morning, she beachcombs with her wiener dog, Penelope. Together they cover beached whales with damp gold and scarlet handkerchiefs to keep their skin moist, or dig around them to set them free. In the evenings, Longing writes love letters by candlelight with a gull’s feather dipped in soot and blood. She places the letters in corked bottles to toss into the sea.
P.S. I knit from about 10:30-11:30 today, and in lieu of a regular report decided to do an imaginative post for a fun change. Hope you liked it. Thanks for reading!