An ornate and gold-edged book, of which inside are secrets even she doesn't know or understand. But tucked all through it are leaflets of paper, as if she'd rather not write in the book its self. Except on the first empty page of the book is written in exquisite, flowing penmanship her full name. ~ Lavender Cecelia Morgan.
Sunday, 01 October 2017
Of late I try to roam... more out of habit...I make it usually as far as Milltown and I turn around and go home again the habit of running or roaming is certainly gone.. for which I am glad. For a LONG time I stayed away from my guild hall home, scared I guess of the memories it invokes. But finally about half a cycle back I went home... and now it is like my feet have taken root and I can not make myself leave again. It feels so good to be home, where I belong instead of one of my many wandering spots. Love them though I do, and I am sure I will visit them again especially the balcony of Caernivale, by far my most visited spot. But for now I am home. No more do I wander or roam. No more do I worry where I am suppose to be... who I am suppose to be. I am content to be where I am, and who I am. I have grown use to my own company and expect nothing from no one and I suppose I have been lost so long no one expects anything from me either. I look forward to the changing of the season. The Fall Festival is fast approaching and I look forward to it's festivities once more.
