Once upon a time there was a travelling player (stage name - Eleanor) who travelled far and wide with her small bag of tricks. She would stop at each village, unpack her wares, and smile shyly at the passersby. Some would walk past, some would stop to chat, and others would return again and again, just because. One day she reached the Magical Forest, and she stood at its edge peering into the darkness, wondering if she should continue or turn around and return to her home.
As Eleanor peered into the vast chasm of the forest, her eyes caught the tiniest of glimmers. With a sigh and shrug she stood a bit taller, pushed her shoulders back, raised her chin, and began to walk into the darkness. Following the glimmer of light as it twinkled before her she found herself following a path of sorts, turning and bending through the dense underbrush of a foreign land. It was a land so foreign that even the sound of the wind in the leaves was indecipherable; even the dripping of a raindrop, the crackling of a branch, the scuttling of a creature, were all the unfamiliar language of an alien land.
As the glimmer of light seemed to grow larger and larger Eleanor soon found herself standing face to face with its source. She was standing in a large clearing, surrounded by a perfect circle of silvery eucalypts, and in the centre of the clearing stood a large wooden house with gingerbread woodwork and a bright blue door and 6 large windows, each of which glistened and glimmered with light. Through these windows she saw the dark silhouettes of women as they darted back and forth, back and forth, and she heard their light laughter and soft voices.
Just as Eleanor was standing in front of the house, wondering whether she should knock or simply turn around and continue on her way, that bright blue door opened with a raucous shriek and out skipped a tiny woman who looked straight at her and said, "Well, there you are, finally! We thought you'd never get here!" And with that the tiny woman clutched one of Eleanor's hands between her own and pulled her into the house, closing the door gleefully behind her. Inside the house, past the long candle-lit corridor and through the two swinging doors, Eleanor found herself in a huge, canary-yellow kitchen. There was a large red kettle whistling away on the stove, a cinnamon cake rising in the oven, and a warm crackling fire. Gathered around the large round kitchen table, in a variety of different poses, were a great many women.
But that's another story.
I published my very first post on my brand new blog on April 6th 2008. It now seems almost impossible to remember what life was like without my little blog, and without all of you in my commentbox.
To celebrate my first year anniversary I have decided to offer you the opportunity to go into the draw for a number of gifts. The gifts are as follows:
A handmade, calligraphic rendition of my poem "The Kite" (with thanks to my mother, the calligrapher).
The CD "Slow Food," by the Russian/Australian composer Elena Kats-Chernin, in collaboration with her good friend Kylie Kwong.
A custom-written limerick, just for you.
A custom-made sandcastle, just for you.
So...If you would like to go in for the draw, please say so in my commentbox...you have a week before I pick the winners.