labour of lacey

Artwork and Embroidery
Art I Like
Writing I Like
Ladeez


‘That is how we connected,’ she says. ‘I didn’t believe it at first. He said, “Oh, I play a little guitar, a little piano…” I thought, “Yeah, like everybody does.” But then he played me a few songs. I am so deeply, deeply into music and I had met someone else who was.’ She gasps, lost for words. ‘So it was kind of special.’
'If there’s a nice day where nobody bothers us and the phone doesn’t ring too much, we write a song. Every time,’ she beams.

‘That is how we connected,’ she says. ‘I didn’t believe it at first. He said, “Oh, I play a little guitar, a little piano…” I thought, “Yeah, like everybody does.” But then he played me a few songs. I am so deeply, deeply into music and I had met someone else who was.’ She gasps, lost for words. ‘So it was kind of special.’

'If there’s a nice day where nobody bothers us and the phone doesn’t ring too much, we write a song. Every time,’ she beams.

“The town does not exist
except where one black-haired tree slips
up like a drowned woman into the hot sky.
The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die.”

Anne Sexton, “The Starry Night,” from All My Pretty Ones (via lifeinpoetry)

“It is I. It is I —
Tasting the bitterness between my teeth.
The incalculable malice of the everyday.”

Sylvia Plath, “Three Women,” from The Collected Poems (via lifeinpoetry)