Simplicity is the new black.
There are no accidents. There is no such thing as coincidence, right? This envelope pretty much sums up our last several weeks or so. More dark clouds, an absence of sunlight until just before sundown, enough rain to make waves, and it's beautiful. I feel so much smaller--all lowercase--yet strong, but only because days like these remind me that I am. Without the rainy season . . . I cannot imagine our lives.
Black and white contains every color in a rainbow. It makes sense that they should complement each other so well, yes? The white lines in the envelope bring to mind gentle waves. I'm talking about the waves traffic makes as it plows through flooded streets. Goodness. Perhaps it is a good thing I'm almost at the end of "The Book of Strange New Things." It's so humid here. Breathing outdoors feels the way I imagine Peter feels. Still and all, I almost wish the end of the story wasn't so near. (sigh)
Black naturally reminds me of the dark void that is often left in the wake of Death. Anna's father passed last month. I write to her as often as I am able; I'm unsure of what to say in the face of Death. It and I are not on speaking terms. It makes no apologies, and I refuse to apologize for living, so we simply are. Anna is strong. I'm pretty sure a card or a note from us, her peers, will uplift her spirits when she least expects it though. You, and yours, are in our prayers, dear Anna.
Goodness comes from unexpected places. Do you remember the magical Disney campaign that included images of these two on a magic carpet? From Bon Appetite Magazine, of all places, I think. I guess Marc fell off that magic carpet, since they are no longer together, but they still make a lovely envelope.
The back is just as much fun. Someone unstoppered the magic lamp and the genie granted three wishes? A girl, a boy, and a divorce? Sorry. Perhaps it was a girl, a boy, and a boy toy. Or "happiness ever after." Ever after what? I'm sorry. They've moved on, I barely know who they are, and I certainly am not an authority on their lives. I'm just making it up as I go along.
Oops! See? You thought it was me, when it's been the genie all along. It's a little late genie-girl! The whoops outta the bag.
(back--no special liner required)
I saved several pages because I'm unsure of which of the three to use and which I should lose. They're all lovely.
Moving on . . .
Southern doodling is dandy. In fact, it comes in right handy when it rains all day, and it rains all night, 'cause the weather it was dry, and Susannah refused to cry. Oh! Susannah, oh, don't you cry for we! We're trying to get dry, girl!
. . . to be continued