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budding thoughts

A first post is often significant somewhat in recording at the moment who you are, or who you imprint yourself to be; and yet because I have had many firsts, this is like coming home to a summerhouse, and settling back against the windowseat with a cup of hot tea on my knee as I lean my head against the windowglass and whisper, “I’m back.”

I’m back.

Following which, I’m not sure where to begin again, writing my stories. Perhaps you will forgive me if I wander too much far off the spot; my lives are now filed neatly into categories once again and I am eager to begin the sorting of random lines (to borrow a line from the famous wizardry books, a Pensieve is much in order, and this is custom-gloved to me).

Thus, begins my secret love-affair with you.

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