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 |    Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
   L'aura del campo 'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos' ♣ Federico García Lorca ♣  L'aura del campo. A breeze in the meadow. So it began the last day of Spring, 2005; on the 16th day of the month of Light of the year 162. This is a supplement to my daily journal written to a friend, my muse; notes I do not share. Here I will share what the breeze has whispered to me. PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS! I L  V COMMENTS!On a practical note, in answer to your questions: IN MEMORIUM VerySara  passed away November 12, 2005 Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings. More suggested links:  These pictures rotate.   Kåre  Enga~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop, The Fish |
| I've neglected this blog. I need to make sure I post every day. I have more than enough material... Today: Alfred makes a comment "a drop of soot on a rose petal". And this morning thought: changing underwear... as in... no matter what I've done to bring about change throughout my life it's no more significant than changing my underwear... sad... That said... yes, I put on clean underwear today and I no longer boil it! :D Unpacking... is coming along. So is reading. Writing? Gotta work on that. |
| Rhyan Wet leaves and wet pavement, neon lights reflecting autumn's despair... and delight. You aren't here, Rhyan, to share a cup of coffee, stories of my trip, your life in the tropical isles. I wish you were. The skies cloud up and drip and there's no respite from the chill except inside where Norwegians go about being... Norwegian... each in a world unto themselves and the three friends they share their life with. It's dark and lonely in Oslo. Your smile would light it up. © Kåre Enga (23-24.oktober.2017) [174.283a&b] 81.626 |
| Days darken in Oslo. Green-winter fades to yellow prays for a blanket of white. All's right. Except this gnawing at my bones. They're weary, ready to rest, to mould. In Portugal warmth fills fragrant air; here a chill breeze blows. My inner-bear seeks food to prepare for slumber. I buy a duck sandwich with extra meat, my meal of the day I eat... wandering through art filled streets. "Duck in heaven" ... may my soul join its long plucked feathers. © Kåre Enga (20.oktober.2017) [174.281] Note: duck = and; spirit = ånd in Norwegian... I suspect it's a bit of a pun. |
| I've been writing... a lot... after the doldrums of August... but I haven't edited and posted. A thought from Castelo Branco... time to eat a hamburger with everything on it. We sit waiting for the bus. It's the driver's lunch break. 2 p.m. Not enough time to wander. Not enough time for anything. Too much vacant time to think. Sitting in the bus/train terminal I watch the children fight the vending machine. They lose... no... they win! I spend 1,20 for a bottle of orange something. It's a hot dry day. One of many this year. Autumn will come when it gets here. It's late. I'm in Évora... of "Os vampiros não vivem em Évora". Those vampire stories need to be finished this November. As I posted at facebook: "A comment to a young friend who is the template for my stories "Os vampiros não vivem em Évora": "In Portugal... wish you were here. "Found" another "vampire-to-be" in Covilhã. She's 18, has fangs and loves to read vampire stories.... little does Mariana know she is one. 😉 Her mother, Isabel, is a hoot-and-a-half. They are so likable... already started on a story. Today in Évora..." I hope to focus on editing and completing these stories when I get back to Montana in two weeks." 81.594 |
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