The Black Narcissus

I am very conscious of the fact that you will be conscious of the fact that I am not writing. My well has run dry. I have nothing to say. I am exhausted and work has taken over (please forgive me), but I suppose that it was inevitable. I had four weeks off for spring, which was sheer bliss, and before that, right back until November, I had no morning classes and a much lighter schedule, and so so much more time to wake up and plough my instincts, when words rise up and I cannot stop them there are so many things that I am bursting out to say.  Right now there are NO WORDS. I am severed.  I wake up and I can’t write. All the teaching has just cut off my cortex and inspiration.

Lo siento.

Anyway, my friend put up this divine looking rose on Facebook tonight and I stole it immediately. It looks so wet, and so dewy, and so fragrant, that I just want to plunge my parched face and mind into its petals and inhale its sweet fragrance. I may not wear rose perfumes any more, but I still don’t think that there is anything quite like a natural, breathing, magnificent rose such as this.