I have a most peculiar headache, dears. I had two tablets of sugar coated ibuprofen about an hour and a half ago but it just seems to be getting worse. Nothing a good night’s sleep and a herbal tea won’t cure, I expect.
Damian has either tonsillitis or strep throat and I have been playing nurse, plumping up pillows and making teas and I made a chicken broth today. It had green things floating in it and little pieces of vegetables and strips of shredded chicken. It was flavourful, despite the lack of bones.
I know a lot of things that would seem highly unlikely if I spoke them aloud, but I do earnestly believe that magic exists. It isn’t like the magic that we speak of in books. It is more surreal, and well out of our grasp. I think it is more beautiful and exquisite than our brains can comprehend. It exists in the seas and the trees, in the harmony of the sun and the moon, in the way everything on earth is connected, as though by fine threads that our plain eyes cannot see. It turns the cogs that the universe runs upon.
This world cannot be a happening, folks. The probability is too high, the detail too intricate for it to be the work of pure chance.
The magic is that we exist in this wondrous beauty, and when the world is enveloped in the cold darkness of the universe, one’s eyes are opened to the vastness of it all. One feels so incredibly small and powerless.
Sometimes I wish the veil would lift.
I can’t wait for a clear summer night, when the world is illuminated by moonlight and the stars twinkle merrily in the sky. That way I will be able to go for walks in the fields. It’s so dark otherwise. One wants to see what they are walking into. I want to see how changed the world seems in the absence of sunlight.
Sometimes I grieve for people who haven’t died yet, as though they have. My imagination runs away with me and I start to worry and feel anxious. Sometimes I find a frown on my face, and it is a surprise, and I wonder how long it has been sitting there for. Like right now for example. Other times I stop myself when I realise I am rocking back and forth, like somebody from a mental institute.
I think I have far too much time on my hands.
You know what they say, though. Time to occupy oneself with things that will move one forward and better one’s mind and improve one’s knowledge. When I am busy, I shall look back on all this free time wistfully and wish I had done something better with it. We make our own lives, dear folks.
I keep telling myself that, you know. I fear my words speak louder than my actions these days. Must rectify that as soon as possible.
Goodnight dears. I wish you all very well.