the very first

When I look back at that night, the very first thing to reappear is the skirt I wore. I hear once more the satisfying swish of sheer fabric and the sensation of a long hem tickling my ankles. The skirt sways in my memory, dancing to the guitars and voices. Then, I remember my bare toes, tapping beneath. The evening returns piece by piece. I stood in line for face paint to request stars and swirls on my arm. There were blankets to cover the grassy patch which we had claimed; for lying down and watching the sky blend into dusk; for gazing at lanterns that grew brighter by the moment. Our own lanterns were dark gold and blew out before the sun had gone. I was lying, grounded, with my feet in the grass, but floating up. 

When I look back at that night, the last thing that comes to mind is the shape of the pillow as I dropped to sleep afterwards, the faded colours of glowing stars and swirling lines still visible on my skin.


  1. It looks like a beautiful and magical day.

  2. you write so honestly and capture the beautiful rawness of life. your words are a treat to read, and your stills always take my breath away. you have a beautiful mind, m'dear. xx

  3. loving those paper lanterns, i want one in my room!

  4. There just aren't any more words left except perhaps lovely, and sweet, and just really, really beautiful.

    This just wins it all.

  5. this looks so magical and special!