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The Carousel Ride

A little storytelling... A modicum of silence swallowed the room as dusty shards of sunlight patterned the multicolored carpet. Decorated with an army of garish jewelry, everything jingles, almost intentionally, as the woman perched behind the large candy counter brushes invisible lint from her blouse. Her silvery hair is the color of cotton candy. She offers a genuine smile before shifting her gaze downcast towards her slender hands. Briefly, she examines their delicate surface that is creviced by time and wiser than yesterday. At four quarters per ride, it was a small price for six minutes of uncontaminated childhood reminiscence to sweep the memory warehouse. And while we kept the company of an epoch 1920’s carousel, 60 handcrafted horses, and funky reindeer, we went round and round, faster and faster… letting it take us to those secret places we almost forgot existed. --Bella H. p.s. In lieu of those who have so thoughtfully given me awards and spotlight features... YOU'RE AM...
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Dirty Little Secret

While casually perusing the supermarket isles for those everyday staples, I think I briefly lost consciousness when I spotted these righteous tie-dye skinnies crammed amongst a hoard of others like some dirty little secret. Beneath a storm of florescent lighting, there they were at Walmart (!!), waiting for well-deserved recognition! Extracting reasonable doubt, I immediately implemented their placement into my wardrobe… vacillation need not apply. p.s. I'm terribly busy with a manuscript deadline, but will be visiting everyone very soon. And for those who so thoughtfully granted me awards, I promise I haven't forgotten... but on the contrary, am working on a special thank you post. xx Vintage Sequin Jacket... Promiscuous Heels... L.e.i. Skinny Jeans.
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Rocky Mountain High

A museum of silence and imagery... From Lincoln Avenue to Garden of the Gods and all the way back from where I’d started, a charming hippie village proliferates with seriously righteous tie-dye. And like some mutant offspring, it just kept multiplying. Even as the snowcap milieu put my vertiginous vaults to shame, I somehow balanced my stems atop the semi-rough terrain with very minimal complaint. A garland amongst snaking mountainside sidewalks, the endless roads cemented an impish escapade as a monochrome skyline released a layer of snowfall… blanketing this bucolic scene in a whimsy of white. Never a hindrance to the wiles of feminine philosophy, I ardently gadabout with expensive latte concoctions, feeling the secret rush of my spontaneous Colorado reprieve. But as the final countdown took my euphoric lift with hollowing reflection, I abort the word goodbye from my vocabulary. (Faux fur caplet, gloves, and boy's blazer, vintage. T, French Connection. Jeans, Guess. Heels, ...
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