For what it's worth...

I love you.

http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/cardigans/forwhatitsworth.html
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/For_What_It_s_Worth_Polar_Session_01_/1920986

Things I find at the bottom of my bra at the end of the day...

...Oh! The treasures that are mined there.
Today, I found a rubber band.
Sometimes food or a false eyelash.
All the world's missing earrings at some point or another make their way past my cleavage and down to my sweaty underboob.
I wonder what surprise I'll find tomorrow?

Sell all my things

This is a song by Rosie Thomas, off her album 'Only with laughter can you win'. It's not necessarily a sentiment I share any longer, but definitely something that I can identify with from one time in my life. To listen to this song for free, look it up on Grooveshark or Spotify (it's perrrttyyy).

In a little while I'll feel better 
Gonna travel around the world 
Gonna see it all... 

Gonna go to Paris, maybe Rome 
But I'll feel better miles away from home, 
Gotta figure some things out... 


So sell all my things, I'm not coming home... 
There's nothing there to keep me there... 
Just heartache and panic and worries and things that'll bring me down 
My head feels much clearer being here 


In a little while I'll feel better 
Gonna spill my heart to every stranger in every town 
I'll visit castles in Ireland, have some fella play the violin and play a song for me... 


So sell all my things, I'm not coming home... 
There's nothing there to keep me there... 
Just heartache and panic and worries and things that'll bring me down 
My head feels much clearer being here

Bloomsbury

Late on a damp summer's evening in Bloomsbury,

night shadows dance on the wall in the glow of a streetlight.

Ticker-tuckers outside mark the wheels of pilgrims scurrying to catch the Piccadilly line, although, if you listen carefully, sometimes this is the klip-te-klop of police horses.

The downstairs neighbour plays his bass too loud (and too badly) and men stumbling home from the Marquis Cornwallis bicker and joke loudly. But I'm too tired to care, and as my eyelids grow heavy, all the clamor.................

                                                      fades..................

                                                                                 out...     

                                                                                           .

Flickering streetlamp

Sometimes, streetlamps wink at me.
I wink back, and thank my guardian angel for letting me know it's there.