Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Diary extract No. 28

Tucked myself away in Cee's old Wendy house, with the slipper-knocker and the honeysuckles creeping in through the windows. Hiding from the ever-growing mountain of boxes inside, like a labyrinth or a castle in the dark without a candle. A cardboard castle. Half my life spent living out of suitcases and a third of it packing everything into boxes. Spent the week-end at B's house, with the back garden that overlooks the sea. Tigerlily skin on my nose and cheeks and arms, warm and soothing, the smell of French roses with briny salt-air, shortbread biscuits and stacks of toast for tea. Early grey mornings, breathing cool fog with my breakfast. Maman wants me to sell my dear little rocking chair and I'm humming and hawing about letting it go. Clio has the record player skipping a secret song over and over. Papa will switch it out soon, after he's boxed up all his books. The trouble with packing is you always need the things you've packed. Always wanting to read the books I've put away. Can't seem to find the letters I need to post either; Alexandre's probably gotten hold of them. I am the worst for writing letters, though, hours by the sea trying to put pen to paper. Sitting here now, waiting for thunderstorms, seeing words from my tombstone, in the future:

'Her life was like a half blown rose. Her death, the dawn, the blushing hour.'


mckenzie. said...

everything about this is so perfect, it is picturesque escapism for sure. i particularly adore that last line, i know it will stick with me. you always write the most lyrical things, elly. alexandre's presence is such a lovely thing within it, too. so very sweet, i could never stop reading you.

Anonymous said...

You, my darling, are a poet. The best sort of poet; you could scribble rhymes of the mundane and mold them into the most colorful dream lands. With your words, you create, and you let us travel with you, peering through old glass into that world that you've made. We hide there for as long as we can before we know we must go. I think we always remember your words and the places they took us to, not only because of how strikingly pleasant they are-but because the remembrance of such beautiful thoughts and feelings is something every human tries to cherish. You create this with everything you do, my dear Elly. I can't thank you enough for that.

Until next time,
Your Norah x

Lumina said...

I absolutely adore your writing style. <3
Postscript: When I read 'Early grey', I misread it as 'Earl Grey' (because it was after 'tea'), and I found it sort of funny when I realised that it really said 'Early grey'.

Lizard said...

A garden by the sea sound beautiful. You must live in an enchanting world :)

Carina said...

Elly, you are the most magical being, whenever I come here, I feel at peace as I read about your adventures. The last line is really beautiful too...

xx Carina

SavedthruLove said...

i want to write like you someday or maybe just one day out of all the days that I have.

Your so creative. It is beautiful to read it and see it move into life across the page.

Where did you take me?
Where did I go?


Jo said...

Goodness I want that satchel. So beautiful!


Anonymous said...

i don't suppose perchance you would like to trade your beautiful and fairytale-like way of living in for mine?
really i just imagine you living on some secret cloud country (if you do can i visit?)

SoYesterday said...

how pretty! lovely picture XO

devorelebeaumonstre. said...

LOVE that bag. x

p.s. I'm having a $50 giveaway if you'd like to check it out. :)

Julia said...

wish my life was a half blown rose. you make everything sound like a painting.

Anonymous said...

please excuse me, i am trying to write an epitaph even half as beautiful and heartbreaking as yours.

you inspire in the most magnificent ways, dear sweet elly. x

Rosie said...

hello lovely elly ♥

this post is so beautiful, really truely. i love it.

x x

Junaluska said...

Breathtaking. The picture is magical as well.

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like talking to trees, your whispers hidden in the wind. only sometimes the trees talk back. like wishing on a star and having the star wish on you. say what you like; there's always someone listening.
a very merry thank you.