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| The elf was singing, a quiet song, like mouse rustle or stream trickle, like moth flight and owl wings in the dark. He didn't understand the words but it sounded sad and he was loath to interrupt the lament. When the song died away she sat with bent head,"are you going to join me or do you wish to just stand there and stare?" She turned then and smiled. |
| Welcome to my fantasy |
| Fantasy is that feeling of something just beyond your reach...you can feel it like a feathers kiss along your skin, taste it like the last bit of raspberry juice on your lips, and hear it like the last strains of a dream song. The real talent is not just catching it, but catching it and then holding it out for others to see. |
| Quote of the moment: |
| So, don't give me your tenets and your laws. Don't give me your lukewarm gods. What I want is an accounting with all three cultures--white, Mexican, Indian. I want the freedom to carve and chisel my own face, to staunch the bleeding with ashes, to fashion my own gods out of my entrails. And if going home is denied me then I will have to stand and claim my space, making a new culture--una cultura metiza--with my own lumber, my own bricks and mortar and my own feminist architecture. -Borderlands/La Frontera |
| I have no idea where this picture came from... don't sue me. |
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| Per request...pictures of me and mine |
| Updates- 6/18/04- I'm on a roll. I added another story. Walk the Other Side (fanbased) and I put a new version of Things that Gnaw at you up. enjoy. 6/16/04- i know long time no see. oh well. I put up a new poem "The Purge" and i'm in the process of renovation. go me. |