This place

Blue squares and splashed walls;

Perfect blocks and absent drawl.

Black heels and knotted scarves;

Traffic jams and crossed paths.

Flat water and spiky palms;

Riotous fun and deathly calm.

Shady groves and lonely dogs;

Silent ships and hanging fog.

Burning scrub and hazy skies;

Drenched parks and pesterous flies.

Concrete streets and money spent;

Loud cars and climbing rent.

Enduring sounds and forgotten tunes;

Cheerful November and grizzly June.

Everlasting tastes and fresh liquid-gold;

These are the stories that this place has told.

The twinkling of green

The twinkling of green

like raindrops formed on branches

on the spindly brown tendrils

that reach for the sky

Their glossy facade

bunched up in lush groups

play home to the creatures

that call their sweet cry

The shimmering dims

and they wane with the seasons

yet this solitary beauty

knows not despair with time

But patience and quiet

as they wait o'er once more

to burst through and glisten

and luscious beauty restore

The cicada's

So, it's been somewhat of a hiatus. But I am back to write about my general musings and so forth. I realised the other day that I have so many strange/funny/interesting (and also rather bland) memories floating around in my mind, that I really should keep a track of them on paper (or in cyberspace, as it were).

I hope to use this space as a sort of journal, to exercise my mind and escape to another place of words and thoughts and visualisations; something that I think the written word provides like no other medium.

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So the cicada's are out. How I love cicada's...they're so loud, and when they woke me at 4am the other day I couldn't help but enjoy it, even though I seriously needed to be asleep. Apparently they are amongst the loudest of insects in the world, and having one 'sing' next to a human ear could cause permanent deafness. Interesting, yes?

Apparently in Japan they are seen as a symbol of rebirth and re-awakening, shedding their shell at the beginning of summer to live, sing, procreate, only to die and begin the cycle again.

I love the way in which the Japanese culture is full of delicate symbolism; it is steeped in tradition that is still revered, even in today's modernised world.