This girl is everything me.

On some days she is purple, the deep inky kind. And other days sunshine yellow- almost  bursting out in her optimism  to touch others. She is an absorbing book on a rainy day. She is laughter from the belly, the kind you cant hold back and she is that itch that just wont go away. She is words- lots and lots of swirling words, that make you dizzy in their combinations. She is moody. VERY moody. But she loves so totally with her heart, and stomach. She doesn’t understand injustice. She is tea not coffee. She is lilies not sunflowers. She is dancing with her friends not her husband. She is analyses, theories and talks. She is loud and angry not seething and quiet.

She is notebooks collected in a red box, saved for that perfect topic. She is projects and projects and some more projects. Sometimes she is ideas not action. She is home at heart. She is chaotic not cluttered. She is winter not spring. Cant let go. Cant walk off completely.

She is feelings and vibes not logic and mind. She is a mother first not a person. She has many people but only one person. She believes but wishes she didn’t sometimes. She walks when she would rather skip. She is bookshops with sofas and wi fi. She is late night chats. She is alone on the balcony watching the stars. She is the one who stole your heart and broke it.

She loves being the wife but not always the partner. She is type whimsies, not comic sans. She is about the glasses that change every couple of years.  She is about emails- the long rambly kind and instant connections. She is about instant clicks. She is mostly like her mom and sometimes like her sisters. She is long open roads and wind in her hair. She is short hair not long. She is breakfast before any other meal. She is coloured pens of all shapes and sizes. She is flowers in the bedroom. She is diamonds all the way. She is scribbles in the notebook- she is musings on her blog not writing on demand. She is a feel good story not a social comment. She is more romance and magic not lust and fire. She is Rose is Rose, her alter ego.

She is content not satisfied. She is her foxy not a car. She is cake not chocolate. She is magazines and design that makes you tingle. She is earrings not necklaces. She is a fliptop phone and illustrative calendars. She is a teacher at heart but a designer in the mind. She feels inspired by odd things and comforted by the familiar. This girl is everything me. Who are you?

On some days she is purple, the deep inky kind. And other days sunshine yellow- almost  bursting out in her optimism  to touch others. She is long walks on beaches yet her head is in the mountains.

She is an absorbing book on a rainy day. She is laughter from the belly, THE KIND YOU CANT HOLD BACK and she is THAT ITCH that just wont go away. She is words– lots and lots of swirling words, that make you dizzy in their combinations. She is moody. VERY moody. But she loves so totally with her heart, and stomach. She doesn’t understand injustice. She is tea not coffee. She is not sunflowers. She is dancing with her friends not her husband. She is ANALYSES THEORIES AND TALKS. She is loud and angry not seething and quiet. Patriotic and hopeful to the point of denial.

She is notebooks collected in a red box, saved for that perfect topic. She is projects and projects and some more projects. Sometimes she is ideas not action. She is home at heart. She is chaotic not cluttered. She is winter not spring. Cant let go. Cant walk off completely. She has great expectations from people she loves.

She is feelings and vibes not logic and mind. She is a mother first not a person. She has many people but only one person. She believes but wishes she didn’t sometimes. SHE WOULD RATHER SKIP THAN WALK. She is bookshops with sofas and wi fi. She is late night phone chats. She is alone on the balcony watching the stars. She is the one who broke your heart but then came to fix things one day. Nostalgia is her undoing.

She loves being the wife but not always the partner. She is type whimsies, not comic sans. She is COLOURS but then sometimes only white. She is about the glasses that change every couple of years.  She is about emails- the long rambly kind and instant connections. She is about clicks. She is MOSTLY LIKE HER MOM and sometimes like her sisters. She is long open roads and wind in her hair. She is short hair not long. She is breakfast before any other meal. She is coloured pens of all shapes and sizes. She is flowers in the bedroom. She is DIAMONDS all the way. She is scribbles in the notebook- she is musings on her blog not writing on demand. She is a feel good story not a social comment. She is more romance and magic not lust and fire. She is Rose is Rose, her alter ego. SHE IS SO VERY SELFISH. She is Carrie Bradshaw, Scarlett O Hara, Emma.

She is content not satisfied. A VOLKSWAGEN 1976. She is cake not chocolate. She is magazines and design that makes you tingle. She is earrings not necklaces. She is a fliptop phone and illustrative calendars. She is a teacher at heart but a designer in the mind. She feels inspired by odd things and comforted by the familiar. She is changing reluctantly. This girl is everything me. Who are you?

(pic by Hussy)