Inspired by the insightful, observational blogs of The West Coast Line and diverted from my recent travelling plans and colour coded calendar by an untimely broken leg I find myself returning to the wonderful world of words….
Entering into this house of blogging I am a little daunted, to say the least.
I have barely peeked around the door into the hallway and already there are a million trillion ways to go.
It is an Escher painting reflected in a prism.
There are glass panelled office doors and cat-flaps, airport check ins and supermarket trolleys, rope swing bridges and motorways, armchairs, wheelchairs and noise.
So much noise.
I am reminded of watching the Wim Wenders film ‘Der Himmel Über Berlin’, in the late 1980’s, where bands of overcoated angels had the eternal task of listening to the words and thoughts of every living, breathing individual. I remember puzzling for months, probably years, over the enormity of that unfathomable task.
Yet here we are, at a self service check out, attempting to achieve something pretty close to that.
And the mobster angels can rest, their pocket books deep down in dark woollen pockets, waiting for the day it all crashes!
So which way to go? I like a bit of political bantering as much as the next person, I don’t know many recipes, but I take some good photos. I’d love to write an adventurous travel blog, but since I hobbled up to the blogging house on crutches, that’d be seriously limited.
So I think I’ll just carry on writing this kind of poetry about stuff emerging from the broken limb obsessed mind of a reluctantly 50 year old woman.