Obsession
has climbed on my back, wrapped itself around my shoulders, my head –
which is lost inside a huge fiction...yes, thirteen books one after
another will do that to you. I'm back in True Blood land,
living in Bon Temps with Sookie Stackhouse, hanging on every word, to
the extent of sometimes going back a bit to re-listen because my
attention had strayed to the real world...of just one of my other
fantasy places. It's a nasty addiction, this audio book trail, this
reading with your eyes shut...this falling in love with the deep
south accent of the same reader through the books. I've only escaped
for a little while to skin Facebook, Twitter, and to force a
scribble for blogging. The last book is calling me so I think I might
have time to make a quick cuppa after I post this before the walls
close in. outside I hear the rain running foul of the wind and am
glad to be imprisoned in this wee flat, in this cosy bed.
Though,
last couple of days I've been working on another set of tarot majors,
including creating the hanged man above. I took that pic in Budapest
more than ten years ago, and thought he would be an interesting take
on the traditional image.
