The idea of an idea.

I like ideas.

I love ideas.

So often, ideas, as they rise and froth and spill, saturating every nerve, one’s very core with their blood, with their dreams and their promises are better than their actuality.

They make one tingle and gush and run around a bit in exquisite frenzy.


Dreams on the verge.

As fragile and luminous as a hand blown glass shot through with skeins of colour. Just as unique.

A thrilling what if and will be.


They make my world go round.


2 thoughts on “The idea of an idea.

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