Also have a pretty dress...

First Day of my Life

This is the first day of my life

I swear I was born right in the doorway

I went out in the rain suddenly everything changed

They're spreading blankets on the beach

Yours is the first face that I saw

I think I was blind before I met you

Now I don’t know where I am

I don’t know where I’ve been

But I know where I want to go

And so I thought I’d let you know

That these things take forever

I especially am slow

But I realize that I need you

And I wondered if I could come home

Remember the time you drove all night

Just to meet me in the morning

And I thought it was strange you said everything changed

You felt as if you'd just woke up

And you said “this is the first day of my life

I’m glad I didn’t die before I met you

But now I don’t care I could go anywhere with you

And I’d probably be happy”

So if you want to be with me

With these things there’s no telling

We just have to wait and see

But I’d rather be working for a paycheck

Than waiting to win the lottery

Besides maybe this time is different

I mean I really think you like me

I just thought we should have this someplace... I'm missing you something awful. So bored I cleaned my fridge! Shockin', anyway I'll send you an email soon, I just wanted something here when you got in.

Yours, etc.

K

This is Dido Building Carthage by J.M.W. Turner. We will be going to visit it when we travel to London. I love you, I loved the post.

Yours etc,

K

Since I'm on a roll...

I saw this and thought of you. The caption reads:

"You could read about women who are unforgettable, disarming and a not-so-quiet sensation, or, become one by wearing new MYSTRECE. If you dipped your legs in liquid chiffon you'd get the fit, the look, the utter cling of MYSTRECE. And for pennies more you get that Hanes exclusive: No run can grow past the nude heel and demi toe."

Venus

The original inspiration, Diego Velazquez's Rokeby Venus (1647-51):


Helmut Newton's version:

Meet (more of) the family.

So that's my Nana, a la droit.

Israel by Leonard Cohen

Israel, and you who call yourself Israel, the Church that calls itself Israel, and the revolt that calls itself Israel, and every nation chosen to be a nation - none of these lands is yours, all of you are thieves of holiness, all of you at war with Mercy. Who will say it? Will America say, We have stolen it, or France step down? Will Russia confess, or Poland say, we have sinned? All bloated on their scraps of destiny, all swaggering in the immunity of superstition. Ishmael, who was saved in the wilderness, and given shade in the desert, and a deadly treasure under you: has Mercy made you wise? Will Ishmael declare, We are in debt forever? Therefore the lands belong to none of you, the borders do not hold, the Law will never serve the lawless. To every people the land is given on condition. Perceived or not, there is a Convenant, beyond the constitution, beyond sovereign guarantee, beyond the nation's sweetest dreams of itself. The Covenant is broken, the condition is dishonoured, have you not noticed that the world has been taken away? You have no place, you will wander through yourselves from generation to generation without a thread. Therefore you rule over chaos, you hoist your flags with no authority, and the heart that is still alive hates you, and the remnant of Mercy is ashamed to look at you. You decompose behind your flimsy armour, your stench alarms you, your panic strikes at love. The land is not yours, the land has been taken back, your shrines fall through empty air, your tablets are quickly revised, and you bow down in hell beside you hired torturers, and still you count your battalions and crank out your marching songs. Your righteous enemy is listening. He hears your anthems full of blood and vanity, and your children singing to themselves. He has overturned the vehicle of nationhood, he has spilled the precious cargo, and every nation he has taken back. Because you are swollen with your little time. Because you do not wrestle with your angel. Because you dare to live without G-d. Because your cowardice has led you to believe that the victor does not limp.