I’m at it again.

The writing begins

I’ve dragged myself away from the shoe design that’s become somewhat of an obsession and today I opened up my box of notes for book #2.  It’s odd how the mood to write can disappear in a hurry and stay missing for such a long time.

Tomorrow…I start reading my notes and settling on one of three versions of the first chapter. Eeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Wish me luck.

The Stories We Could Tell

The stories we could tell (39 of 1)

I found these little shoes…forgotten…just after daybreak, at the beach.

Worn,torn,faded and dusted with sand, they’ve obviously covered lots of ground on the feet of their long-lost owner.

They’ve lost their golden luster but I find them enchanting. I look at them and wonder what their story is.

I imagine them with tiny dancing feet slipped into them.

I imagine them helping tiny feet chase the last of a wave as it races to leave the shore.

I imagine them toasty and warm from the warmth of the sun, wrapped around tiny feet and hugging them close.

I imagine them missing those tiny feet, now that they’ve gone and I imagine those tiny feet missing them.

I’ll put them in a tiny frame and keep them close, in honor of the stories they could tell.