i mean, really.

sitting in some evening sun, 

M.

spring

Spring has sprung.

And it feels great.

I seem to be too tired from whatever that forming simple thoughts and simple sentences has now become main forte.
Who would've thought.

Singing. Work. Singing. Work. Singing. Singing. Work. Work. Singing. Work. Work. Singing.
Do you see a pattern?

Corfu is waiting for me in open arms. In between me and Corfu there lies a tour, an oratorio, an opera and another tour. I am not complaining - merely stating.

I am going home. (HURRRRAAAAA!)
This time next week I shall be sharing my space with my cat, the ruler of all mankind.
And my friends. Whom I miss so much I choose not to think about it. And just belonging. Something which I never thought about or was particularly worried about until it became absent. Like air I guess?

Lazy Sundays. A rarity of late. Today, however, is lazy.

I have a tooth-ache.
And that is exactly how meaningful I lately am. Most of my meaningful-ness is preserved for either Georg Friedrich or the masterful Massenet and interpreting whatever they have put down with pencil or ink and quill.
Interpreting. Interpretation.

Daffodils. Daffodils. I really do adore ye.

Over and under, above and below. 
M.