meriamber tumbler

‘What are they?’ he asked.
‘Those are moments,’ I said.
‘What are they made of?’ he asked.
They are times, I thought, when you win a race or win a heart…

‘What are they made of?’ he asked again.
‘They are made up of times when we are fully present.’
I picked up one of the specks with the tip of my finger.
‘Do you remember this?’ I asked.
‘Of course,’ he said, ‘I was whistling in the kitchen that morning.’
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘Because of the knowledge that I was loved.

Bits of a Moment: Kamand Kojouri
Image: meriamber tumbler

Inky: I dreamed last night.  I relived a moment of time when I was utterly betrayed.  My heart was ripped from my chest, and I dreamed I could no longer breath.  I woke this morning, muscles sore, my heart hurting, tears streaming from my eyes.   I haven’t thought of that person in many years. Thought it was long forgotten.  Yet he invaded my dreams last night. Maybe to keep the betrayal fresh, that would be like him.  Or maybe it was because my hero betrayed love, 11:30 last night, in my manuscript.

Experiences are riches to writers.  But sometimes, they are a road trip to hell that never goes away.  I’m taking the day off.

for it is a thief…


Suspect each moment, for it is a thief, tiptoeing away with more than it brings.

Words: A Month of Sundays, John Updike
Image: Eve McCauley

Inky: Don’t forget to take back the hour stolen from you in the Spring…

Time was passing…


…like a hand waving from a train I wanted to be on. 
I hope you never have to think about anything as much as I think about you.

Source: Jonathan Foer
Image:  Suffolk Monochrome Group

I sit….


…..beside the fire and think
Of all that I have seen
Of meadow flowers and butterflies
In summers that have been

Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair

I sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever see

For still there are so many things
That I have never seen
In every wood in every spring
There is a different green

I sit beside the fire and think
Of people long ago
And people that will see a world
That I shall never know

But all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before
I listen for returning feet
And voices at the door

Source: J.R.R. Tolkien

Image: Kai Fagerstrom

All at once…


What was it like to love him? Asked Gratitude.
It was like being exhumed, I answered, and brought to life in a flash of brilliance.

What was it like to be loved in return? Asked Joy.
It was like being seen after a perpetual darkness, I replied. To be heard after a lifetime of silence.

What was it like to lose him? Asked Sorrow. There was a long pause before I responded:  It was like hearing every goodbye ever said to me—said all at once.

Source: Lang Leav, Love & Misadventure

Image: found @

Inky’s Take: Today is an anniversary of sorts.  A really sad one.  The memories rattle around inside me never letting me forget.

As if I would ever wish to….