Sparkles and Stings.

Life used to have sparkles in it, but with the sparkles always came the stings. Never was one without the other, and those two sensual imps – the seductive and the destructive – were what drove the rollercoaster.

Tonight I have three messages to send. One is a message of thanks, one a message of loathing, and the third a wordless appreciation of a vision – a picture of grace, charm and loveliness so eloquently entrancing that the imps themselves would quake at the prospect of interfering. (Although I expect they would still do so anyway.)

It’s hard having eventually to be anaesthetized by the cold light of harmless realism.

And it’s been ages since I had the wherewithal to be cryptic, but it’s also been quite a while since I saw something glint.