A Comfy Kind Of Restless

Hiya 🙂

While the snow is piling up out there (and a red weather warning’s in place til tomorrow morning) we are ok for the moment!

I have written part 3 (here are parts one and two if you need them) Jimpix wasn’t too mean, so yaay for that 😉

Starveling   Annum   Hexapod   Pending   Cigarette   Anarchist   Resistant   Present   Cured

Mew tried to cheer me up after dinner, delightedly depositing a starveling  mouse in my slipper a nano-second before I inserted my toes.

That was not the nicest experience.

Mew is a prolific little hunter; if I was paying her I think she’d be the highest grossing kitty per annum around here (with strong emphasis on the ‘gross’).

She pairs up with Rufus to dispense with anything of the Arthro- or Hexapod variety.  Rufus whines at it in a certain way, and Mew comes running; death pending an in depth paw investigation.  They really are an asset to any household…

Miriam had been quite tearful on the phone, I’m not sure whether she’s fallen off the wagon for good, but I could definitely detect pauses for anxious draws of a cigarette.  Again, I silently thanked my lucky stars that I hadn’t ended up with some anarchist for a husband, and instead had chosen a man who had remained steadfastly resistant to unseemly behaviour all his days.  He’d have given my brother a piece of his mind; as would my Dad.  I miss them both so much: they were proper gentlemen.  They would have been so sorry to see Miriam in her present predicament.  I wish there was some way I could have prevented half of Dad’s estate going to my brother, and have kept a chunk safe for her.  Him declaring bankruptcy like that was just a huge con, obviously, seeing as he just got married abroad…!

Could selfishness like that ever be cured?  I don’t know where he got it from, I always thought my brother was swapped at birth.  Our mother was such a gentle soul…

I will again endeavour to write and post another instalment for you tomorrow!

Take care if you are out and about in snowy conditions over the next 24 hours, especially if you are driving!  The school and nursery here are closed again; we will be praying for no power outages once more and thinking about our favourite books despite the kids not being able to dress up with their peers for World Book Day 😉

Ciao for now!

Pssst!!! I need inspiration for the coming weeks – please follow the instructions on my Facebook’s ‘sticky post’ challenge if you want to help me out and choose a picture and generator for me to play with!  It’d be much appreciated!

Come visit the Facebook page and follow @ComfyRestless on Twitter

Copyright © 2018  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hello!

I left you on a bit of a cliffhanger yesterday…so let’s get right into Part 2, with the new set of words that Jimpix gave me:

Skinned   Calendar   Agonizing   Exchange   Dispenser   Archivist   Flump   Cerium   Hushed 

I could have skinned my brother by the time Ivor finished his tale.  Almost a full calendar year since we mended our bust-up over Dad’s estate, and I envisioned another agonising exchange in his doorway.

Ivor looked gleeful in his role as ‘dispenser of scandal’.  Bless him.  Nothing like a good bit of gossip to brighten one’s day…

I wasn’t sure, as I closed the shop early and stomped home, which part I was most hurt by: that my brother had eloped and therefore excluded me from the wedding; or that I would now have to find a new vet.  I couldn’t very well go to her now – poor Miriam (my brother’s ex-wife) would think I was condoning him running off with a thirty year old.

At only ten years my junior, I was hoping he’d finally grow up and stop this cliché of ‘mid-life’ shenanigans.  What man really looks good in leather trousers after fifty, anyway?  What self-respecting thirty year old wants to buy into that ‘sugar-daddy’ nonsense, I ask you?  It’s not like he’s made any decent money in his life!!

An archivist by profession, it seemed my brother didn’t want to preserve his relationships as much as start a collection of them; filing away discarded suitors in a sordid black book or something. 

Who knows…maybe she’ll be the last I thought to myself, already doubting it.  I hit my couch with a FLUMP, and knew I had to phone Miriam. 

I thought of her: all alone in that little flat he’d left her with.  Her kind face, and hair that looked as if someone had knitted the roots from the new mohair line I’d just welcomed into the shop (in ‘Cerium’ colourway).

Why had he felt the need to humiliate her in this way?  Why such a young woman this time? And so local…!

I shut Rufus out in the hall and hushed Mew from living up to her name, letting her finish kneading my lap with her claws before I lifted the receiver.

Oh dear, the brother sounds a bit cantankerous, doesn’t he?!  

We have a weather warning in place for our side of Scotland over the next day or so – I’m hoping that the snow won’t interrupt my power or internet connection and I’ll be able to get part three written and blogged for you tomorrow 😉 

The council here have confirmed that the kids have a snow day, anyway, so it’s a happy ‘Restless’ household tonight!

Catch you as soon as I can…and take care if you’re venturing out in the cold!

Pssst!!! I need inspiration for the coming weeks – follow the instructions on my Facebook’s ‘sticky post’ challenge if you want to help me out and choose a picture and generator for me to play with!

Come visit the Facebook page and follow @ComfyRestless on Twitter

Copyright © 2018  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hi 🙂

In The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron the author talks about synchronicity and being able to spot the universe helping you out when you decide to own your creativity.  Well, I have had experience of it today!

Helen on Facebook picked a lovely picture of a blue-tinged feather from Pixabay to inspire my scribblings this week, and also asked me to use the Jimpix generator.  I dutifully asked Jimpix for 9 words, and it gave me them on a pretty, pale pink background.  I screenshot the words and saved them to my computer; then remembered that because it is the first day of a new story, I would need a title.  I went back to Jimpix and asked for five words, closed my eyes and hit the ‘generate words’ button seven times for good luck (seven is a favourite number of mine) before saving what it came up with:

Not only was the background my favourite colour – two words of the five relate to birds/feathers!!  (Skein [see definition 4] and mew [the meaning with the small 4 after it!]) What are the odds?! 

Want some more spookiness…?  I wrote this poem on the 21^st of February last year, and it has geese flying overhead, a woman sitting knitting (a ball of yarn can be referred to as a skein)…and I explain later in the accompanying post that in my head the yarn she was knitting with was blue.  (Remember what colour the feather in this week’s picture prompt is?)

I’m a little freaked out by all of this 😉

Of course, the nine words Jimpix spat at me were not going to be easy to incorporate but – hey – I can’t have everything…

Merge   Dike   Aged   Chromate   Sums   Tendril   Davit   Cabinet   Deceit

I like it when the shop is quiet around 3pm; I’m usually just starting to get sleepy, and I can settle with my knitting and relax a bit.  That day, I was getting to my favourite part of the sock process: where the stitches are all joined, and the needles seem to merge together to become more manageable. (I’ve been making longer socks for my nephew recently, so at that point I know I have quite a while before I have to turn the heel).

Rufus was out the back, digging a small dike, excited because he’d managed to bring me an old spanner earlier.  It sat at my feet, looking forlorn, its aged chromate coating helpless against the amount of weather it had obviously endured.

I chuckled to myself. “That about sums up how I feel!” I said, aloud.

“What does?” came a voice.

I jumped: at first absurdly convinced the voice had come from Rufus, who had re-entered the shop at that second, trailing some poor plant’s tendril off his tail, while looking suspiciously downcast.  On turning my head, however, I realised that the head and davit-like neck of my neighbour were poking through the open front door.

“Oh, nothing…just speaking to inanimate objects as usual” I breezed, a little embarrassed.  “What can I do for you?”

Ivor brought the rest of himself into my shop, and started rummaging through the baskets of the nearest cabinet.  He never buys anything.  My nephew thinks Ivor ‘fancies’ me.  I think he’s just a lonely, nosy old man with nothing better to do with his time.  I keep up the pretence that he’s my favourite customer, though.  It’s a comfortable deceit. 

Sometimes he brings me homemade scones…

“I heard about your brother” he said, far too casually for the enormity of the bombshell he was about to land on me.

Join me tomorrow for Part 2!!

Pssst!!! I need inspiration for next week – follow the instructions on my Facebook’s ‘sticky post’ challenge if you want to help me out and choose a picture and generator for me to play with!

Come visit the Facebook page and follow @ComfyRestless on Twitter

Copyright © 2018  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hey 🙂

Here is the last instalment!

[If you need a link to one, two, three and four…you’ve got ‘em 😉 ]

These are the nine words Random Word Generator came up with for me to use today:

Scrape   Salmon   Child   Marketing   Enemy   Rifle   Tidy   Seize   Observation  

He’s been shouting at me for a long time.  At least, he thinks it’s directed at me.  I’m waiting for his breakthrough.

Standing in this kitchen, my hands morphing into hers as I scrape the brown meat from the salmon, I have the clarity of a child.  His hurt is coming off him in waves.  It could engulf me, so I am keeping up the walls.

My internal monologue is changing.  I am starting to realise that this long 18 months of writing/discovery/marketing/being sought out has made us rail against each other as one does against a foe.

But he is not my enemy.

I saw his copy in the same bag.  He was using her photo as a bookmark.  There were passages highlighted from every chapter.  I almost felt proud…

The rifle was bulky, but he still had room for my book.  He hadn’t brought a change of clothes.

“Why did you take it?!”  he wails.

My tiny, tidy, living room whirls into view as he spins me round.  The knife skitters along the worktop.  I feel lucky he didn’t seem to notice that, as his large hands seize mine.

One thing most of my positive reviews pick out is my keen observation skills.  I feel as though I have not studied his face properly in a very long time.  I can see the panic in his eyes now that his last resort is gone.  I can feel his thundering pulse through the pads of his fingers.

I suddenly know what I must do.

“Dad, I love you” I say.

I hold his head in my lap as he cries.  This cottage can shelter us both for a while.

I’ll have all my family at my fireside tonight.

I hope that you find this ‘ending’ satisfactory and you have liked where I went with this prompt picture and the generator that Sandy asked for me to use.  I’ve enjoyed wrapping my head around the inspirations, and I will be starting a new story (for a lovely new reader, Helen) on Monday…using Jimpix again!!:)

Catch you then…

(see my Facebook’s ‘sticky post’ challenge for details if you want to bagsy a week inspired by a picture and generator you chose)

Come visit the Facebook page and follow @ComfyRestless on Twitter

Copyright © 2018  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hi!

We are on the penultimate post for this story already!  The picture from here is the one that Sandy (one of my regular readers on Facebook) asked me to use as inspiration for this week, and I again utilised her specified generator to decide what direction this part of the narrative would take. 

(Here are parts one, two and three if you missed any)

These were the words for today:

From Random Word Generator

And this is how I used them in my 20 minute writing session…

Rider   Fair   Distortion   Complete   Pursuit   Represent   Glimpse   Publication   Owner

I shudder when motorbikes pass by.  If the rider looks at me I hold my breath and wonder if they notice.  I always imagine guns and shattered bones and blood.  I see my once-fair hair soaked in scarlet, my life ending, illuminated by blue lights.  I know I shouldn’t give the universe such visual prompts, but I can’t help it.

I have my Father’s hair.  It doesn’t suit my dark eyes, but I live with the distortion.  The rest of me is Mother.  I am standing trying to make out what she saw in this complete fool of a man, and his pursuit of material gain.  Maybe she found his confidence refreshing? 

He doesn’t defer to any higher power, he’s all about the now: this moment, how he can squeeze it to produce the ultimate gain.  I can’t remember if he’s always been like this?  I know he was forever working late and that they rowed.  But I don’t quite understand how he came to represent the opposite to all I feel to be real in this world.

I idolised him once, my Mother said.  There are photos in the cottage of me sitting on his shoulders, but I feel that they are other souls.  I catch no glimpse of him today, that man with the adoring eyes and gentle hands.  Where did all our vulnerability go?

I think it left with mother…

Back at Lake Heaven I can forget he exists.  There I feel like Mother is in every leaf and stone.  She caresses my cheek by the water, and guides my hand while I write; whispering wisdom through the wood-smoke and always visiting in peaceful dreams.

The publication of my experiences did not mean I became the assured owner of them.  Instead it felt like sacrilege: an alchemist exposed.

How will this end?!  Come and see what the generator spits out for me tomorrow, and I’ll try and fashion something fitting 😉

(see my Facebook’s ‘sticky post’ challenge if you want to bagsy a week inspired by a picture and generator you chose)

Come visit the Facebook page and follow @ComfyRestless on Twitter

Copyright © 2018  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hiya!

We’re on part three, here are parts one and two if you need them 😉

Today’s selection had a food connection again!  I’ll have to stop munching snacks at my laptop…

From Random Word Generator

Frank  Detector  Movie  Ignorance  Calorie  Dish  Faithful  Intelligence   Book

“I have always been a frank detector of bulls**t, as you know” he says.  “When someone offers us a movie deal, but then is cagy about the money question, I know they are hoping to rely on my ignorance.  But you and I know, baby: I’m not in any way naive! I’ve been in this game far too long to have the wool-pull done to me!”

I cringe at this swiss-cheese statement.  The old me would have added to the ironies, but I keep quiet and try not to openly scan for exits.

Every calorie I forced down seems to be rising in my throat again, waiting to dish revenge on the tablecloth.   I long to flee this place, with its glowing screens and complicated days; circular talk and meaningless adulation.

Why did I promise to be faithful to this madness?  Where was the intelligence in ripping myself away from the place my creativity thrives, and returning to the turmoil that broke me?

I did not write a book to become a commodity for a spiritually starved population.  I wrote to free my own soul, dance in my uniqueness, find a drum beat that made sense. 

Somehow I have summoned a torrent that is anything but refreshing.  Now I am gasping for air.

Join me tomorrow for part 4 😉

Come visit the Facebook page and follow @ComfyRestless on Twitter

Copyright © 2018  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hi 😉

So where is the story going today?! 

[Here is part 1 if you need to catch up]

Again I went to Random Word Generator as per Sandy’s instructions, and this is what I got:

Annnd I got to work…

Paradox   Double   Boom   Stimulation   Elect   Strength   Review   Breakfast   Hang  

Waking in the city feels like an act of war.  Nowhere do I experience the ‘connection paradox’ more keenly.  So many faces, and yet the loneliness is stifling.

“Double boom!” he cries, as the stock market opens.  I am dizzy already from over-stimulation.  I do not feel part of the universe’s elect here.  The strength I gained in silence is leeching from my soul, and I have nowhere to go to get it back.

He crows at every positive review online, as if it matters on any level.  I sit down to breakfast late, E.E. Cummings surging through my brain.  Sampling my tasteless freedom, I consider the leaf I am growing; the tree I belong to, how long I can reach for the sky…

The whole way through, my ‘companion’ doesn’t hang up the phone.  I miss the days when eating was a shared event.  When all the participants in the conversation could be touched both physically and spiritually – when that conversation made me feel safe, enlightened, part of something warm.

He looks at me and my grave feels stepped on.  There’s something about those eyes…

Join me tomorrow for part three! 

Come visit the Facebook page and follow @ComfyRestless on Twitter

Copyright © 2018  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hello!

The lovely Sandy gave me this Pixabay picture to inspire my scribblings for the week (see my Facebook’s ‘sticky post’ challenge if you want to bagsy a week inspired by a picture you chose):

Sandra also instructed that my generator for the week was to be…Random Word Generator!

I first requested 5 words to get a title for this story.  The generator gave me: lake, nose, method, strain and heaven.  Whereas ‘Nose Strain’ and ‘Strain Method’ brought up interesting alleyways in my mind (!) I was really drawn to ‘Lake Heaven’. 

Google says both Lake Heaven and Heaven Lake are real places (in Thailand and Northeast China, respectively) but mine feels like it is in America 😉

[There is also the ‘Heavenly Lake of Tianshan’ and John Dalton’s debut novel…]

Anyhoo, that was my title sorted.  I then generated 9 words, set 20 mins on my computer’s timer, included all the words in 10 and woke up when the timer went.  I shouldn’t try to write late at night.  I committed another 10 mins eventually…hope you enjoy this first instalment!

Noise   Haunt   Orbit   Frame   Linear   Award   Flatware   Stubborn   Important 

I am not a fan of noise.

The pulse of blood in my ears can sustain me for many hours; the gentle lap of water and the calls of the birds that haunt these shores are all the companions I need.  I orbit my own sun, I frame things through the one prism.  My thoughts may not be linear, but they belong to me.  I take each award society offers for this time I’ve carved for myself, and forge forwards.

But today I share my meals with him.  Today I pass out flatware and those conversational nuggets I’ll hate myself for later.  He remains a stubborn mass of blame: chewing and boasting but not ever connecting.  He can’t see why that’s important, but I can; and I’m enraged.

He says I am a loner, like him, and that we know the truth about how the world works.  We can stand on the outside and look into the centre because we are not afraid. 

With all this natural splendour around us, he is still telling me it’s a game we are winning.  That we can conquer ­- and laugh with our spoils. 

He has brought business to my fireside.

I see tyre tracks in the logs…the flames grow fierce…a taste is rising from my last bite that wasn’t there before.

“Come home” he says.

See you tomorrow 😉

[Fire pic is from here]

Come visit the Facebook page and follow @ComfyRestless on Twitter

Copyright © 2018  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hi!!

Oooo! Fifth and final instalment time…

(The last four are: here, here, here annnnnd…here!)

I have left this late to write because I was stupidly scared to start.  I generated the words about 15 mins before I had to pick Youngest up from nursery, looked up what secant meant and also the various definitions of Pallas (this disambiguation page is extensive!)…then I fell down the rabbit hole of YouTube on purpose after picking up Eldest.

From Jimpix

[Who doesn’t need to fold laundry while shedding a tear over the stories behind the beautiful voices from past televised talent show auditions?!]

I didn’t let myself sit and just find my ‘in’ to the last part of this story until the noisy background of bathtime.  The kids must have conditioned me in some crazy way to think better through numerous distractions?!  My 20 mins came up with the below.  It is what it is…

Pallas   Bitter   Secant   Imperfect   Restricted   Wrist   Cart   Plain   Barriers

I keep your picture in my head

Way you move, way you smile

But blood lies all around

Rose lies broken on the ground.

Blood and Roses by Pallas, from the album: Beat The Drum

As Ollie first looked around, he thought maybe he’d fallen asleep to the old Pallas tape again.  He was somewhat surprised not to be in his own bed, and to see his mother asleep in a chair: bun all askew and her handbag dangling from her unconscious arm.

This did not bode well.

There was a cup to his right that appeared to have water in it, but when he tried to drink, he realised it was laced with the lemon juice that his mother swore by.  With his booming headache, the bitter hit was far from welcome.

Where was Bridget, Ollie wondered.  Had she ended up here, too?  As he shifted in the bed, he could feel other parts of his body complaining, so he guessed that maybe they had been in some sort of accident? 

“It’s like you’ve been a miserly secant to my whole life and thrown me back this tiny sliver!!”

Oh yes…Bridget had been very upset that morning (was it night now?  How long had he been out?).  He shouldn’t have stayed out with Kev.  Product launches are meant to be imperfect; staying up to the small hours poring over the figures, their creative flair restricted by alcohol, was never a smart idea…

His mother gave an exclaimation when she opened her eyes and realised he was awake.

“Oliver!  Thank God! I was so worried!”.  She moved to sit on his bed, her smooth hand caressing his wrist.

“Hi, mum” smiled Ollie “where’s Bridget?  Is she ok?”

His mother’s face changed.  “Hopefully they’ve had the sense to find her and cart her off to the nearest police cell! There’s been a plain-clothed policeman skulking about here for the last few hours, like he’s got nothing better to do than wait for you to wake up…  Miriam from the next street told me there were barriers outside yours, earlier.  At least they’re taking things seriously!”

Ollie’s eyes had widened.  He wasn’t quite sure how to process what his mum had just said.  “So…Bridget had something to do with my injuries?  Was she driving?”

Ollie’s mother blinked.  “You weren’t in a car…from what the doctor said you were lying in a pool of blood on the patio when they found you!”

“WHAT?!?”

“Yes, apparently no-one saw anything, but a few of your neighbours reported the sounds of an argument, when the police went door-to-door…”

THE END

My eyes are drooping, so I will have to backdate this post, but I am glad I was able to write something,eventually, and not get beaten by the generator.  I’ve been watching Julia Cameron (in interviews and speaking on YouTube) the last few days, and I am striving to keep pushing my comfort zones for my art 😉

It’s been about a decade since I wrote Morning Pages. I may start them again to fully embed my creative re-awakenings…

[Pic is from here]

Come visit the Facebook page and follow @ComfyRestless on Twitter

Copyright © 2018  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hiya 🙂

Today’s words took a bit of research to incorporate!! 

RNA is related to DNA, according to the Wikipedia page.  I thought this would be tricky to shoehorn in, however, so I went on a Google hunt and found something easier 😉

A Bustard is a type of bird.

Pastern refers to part of a horse’s leg, and Pyroxene is a group name for minerals (which meant I was looking at metamorphic rocks with cleavage, like yesterday…)

How exactly does any of the above relate to my stony-faced couple?  (See what I did there??) Read on to find out…

Rolled   RNA   Bustard   Stain   Stick   Pastern   Snipe   Food   Pyroxene

Bridget rolled over in bed the next morning and realised that Ollie still wasn’t there.  She grabbed her phone and saw that there were no missed calls or messages, so he’d probably sneaked in and fallen asleep on the couch.  Again.

Bridget did spot that the Romantic Novelists’ Association had again turned down her application to their New Writers’ Scheme.  “The RNA welcomes new members, however our scheme is fully booked for 2018…” claimed their email.  Bridget frowned and got out of bed, muttering about websites not being updated on time and the unfairness of a writer’s life.

She found Ollie half dressed and bleary eyed in the kitchen.  He looked awful.

“’Morning” she said.

Ollie looked sheepish: “Hi.”

“Good night?” asked Bridget

“Riveting documentary on the Great Bustard I had to stay up for.  They’re odd looking birds, they have whiskers like an old man.  They were hunted to extinction here, but are being re-introduced to the Salisbury Plain.  Shame you missed it…” said Ollie.

“Ah. Lovely.  What’s that stain on your top?” said Bridget.

“Kebab…?”

“Lovely…”  she was trying to stick to a ‘pastern to the posterior’ instead of full-blown kicking him, but she was losing the battle a little more every second…

“Don’t snipe at me, at least I ate!  Food is food.  And I didn’t puke.”  Said Ollie.

“Snipe…?”

“Well…you know…that teacher look thing you have going on.”

“I don’t!”

“You definitely do” said Ollie.

“I just thought you were tired, but then you didn’t even come to bed…” that’s it Bridget, focus on your feelings, not blame, well done…

“God!  I said I was sorry!”

“You didn’t, actually”

“Well…sorry!! There you go!  I was being an insensitive…Bustard!” grinned Ollie

“Was…?!

“Oh, c’mon Bridge!  Don’t be like that!”

“15 years, Ollie! You’d think that would mean something!”

“It does Bridge! C’mon, I took you out for a nice meal, can’t we just be friends?!”

“You only took me because I booked it!!”

Ollie harrumphed and proceeded to pick up her late father’s rare Perovskite, Nepheline and Pyroxene mineral blend from the bookshelf.

“Why do we keep this lump of shiny concrete, again?!” he sulked.

That would go down in history as Bridget’s final straw…

No offence meant to the RNA, this was just me using creative wiggle room, which hopefully they’ll understand 😉

Tomorrow is to be the last instalment and I have no idea which words I’ll get, but I have a few avenues of thought for endings to this, so I am hoping one of them is accommodated by the generator!!

See you tomorrow… 😀

[Pic is from here]

Come visit the Facebook page and follow @ComfyRestless on Twitter

Copyright © 2018  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!