Once upon a time a lady was given a task. She tried like the dickens to sweep past it—if it was any other year or any other life—but to no avail—it belonged to her. She promised to disappoint—she couldn’t understand if vengeance or pride got her saddled with it—and she was charming. She was stuck in a dream—facing it alone—freaked out by all that was expected of her—swallow the inky code, etc. were metaphors and was assured that eventually she would hear back—not elaborating on what temporary tongue means—although for now, don’t say anything and part of that was also her smirky retort—oh don’t say anything! Don’t say shit! Because she was exhausted and pissed off. Time after time she was pulled up in hope again—mostly in her vast garden—and she was loved but not touched and reassured that all of this knowledge she was piling up would not do her in. Now the passions showed up and said look kid, we want this more than anything. We want the damn red shoes—here the red shoes referred to the dancing Red Shoes as well as Dorothy’s as she was playing a rather un-traditional Dorothy and the passions wanted to bring her home. She said damn, but you’re taskmasters! Here’s my heart—here’s my sorrow—I surrender. And she surrendered many times—getting nowhere. Pulled up in hope again … that’s another story …
Once upon a time a lady was given a task. She tried like the dickens to sweep past it—if it was any other year or any other life—but to no avail—it belonged to her. She promised to disappoint—she couldn’t understand if vengeance or pride got her saddled with it—and she was charming. She was stuck in a dream—facing it alone—freaked out by all that was expected of her—swallow the inky code, etc. were metaphors and was assured that eventually she would hear back—not elaborating on what temporary tongue means—although for now, don’t say anything and part of that was also her smirky retort—oh don’t say anything! Don’t say shit! Because she was exhausted and pissed off. Time after time she was pulled up in hope again—mostly in her vast garden—and she was loved but not touched and reassured that all of this knowledge she was piling up would not do her in. Now the passions showed up and said look kid, we want this more than anything. We want the damn red shoes—here the red shoes referred to the dancing Red Shoes as well as Dorothy’s as she was playing a rather un-traditional Dorothy and the passions wanted to bring her home. She said damn, but you’re taskmasters! Here’s my heart—here’s my sorrow—I surrender. And she surrendered many times—getting nowhere. Pulled up in hope again … that’s another story …