The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.

I'll tell you something. If I were to be cast away on a desert island and had to choose a book (apart from the complete works of Shakespeare and the Bible) - it would be everything W.B.Yeats ever wrote in one volume, if such a work exists.

One very fat volume...quite difficult to turn the pages...useful, also, to stand on when reaching for tropical fruit high up in the trees.

If ever I could say I had just one influence, W. B.Yeats would be it. More and more, in finding my own voice, my own style...oh dear, as I'm writing that, it sounds as though the very thing I'm NOT doing is finding my own voice, my own style, but simply stealing someone else's...someone who shares my Anglo-Irish heritage too.

"The mystical life is the centre of all that I do and all that I think and all that I write," Yeats said and the pieces that I write, that are my truth, that I'm most comfortable with, of which I'm most proud are in that realm, full of myth and legend and lyricism. The Melting, Of Night And Light, When The Trees Fall Silent...

(Dear God, now she's comparing herself to Yeats.)

I shall stop it at once.

But the world IS full of magic things. Here's my discovery of the day. An artist called Anne-Julie Aubry

The End Draws Nigh

W.B.Yeats for my soul, Anne-Julie Aubry for my mind's eye.

Counting Ants

 NOW I feel inspired to write.