I dream of my Father and my Mother tonight.
My Mother was such a proud and resilient soul and she taught me many wonderful things, alone as she was with the prevailing flavor in life being so bland, she made it a war against senseless cognition. She made it a portal into unknown planes of existence where there were numbers and silk scarves no one had ever seen. Out of top hat she jumped like a beautiful red bird. My father and her made me and I am so lucky. My father missed his mother from Ireland and sometimes I wonder if she ran away and hurt us all, but perhaps she simply avoided capture. Silk feathers and brews. Horses and bets but maybe she flew like the wind. I wonder if my Father knew her even more since she was gone. He turned her into Queen Brid and Boudicca. Magical persons like my mother not sullied by this sick world. I love this fragrance, its magic. It is the color violet . Blue Violet and how you make war on mediocrity and indifference.