Unexpected blue

Time to do something about it

Mano's been giving me words of wisdom again, so I think I'll make a section on the left-hand side. Eventually if it overflows, I'll make a page.
Today's adage:
"Y'a de la friture sur la lune" (there's fried stuff  over the Moon) to replace my default "y'a de la friture sur la ligne" when the please word gets forgotten. And I start saying I can't hear you. Must be statics on the line. Turns out statics in French is said with the same word we use for fried. Analogy of it sounds like you're frying things, too much background noise, can't hear you.

We gotta find somewhere to watch rugby tonight. Someone's singing about him and Cinderella and I have heard another song of the moment about "you're my Venus". I guess Percy and his mate have bright days ahead.
Started Dan Brown's lost symbol. And somebody just gave me an Idea.
Gotta catch that. Will keep you posted.

Silke

Lisa Hannigan - Braille (link in previous post)

Perfect Darkness - Warm shadow

Fink - Warm shadow

Temptation waits

Garbage - Temptation waits

Ondine

Lisa Hannigan - Braille

I fill a glass with what you gathered
They wilt against the window pane
The morning sees you off with nets to scatter
You will come in with the tide again
We swim? without a word between us. Our breath held in.
We read enough in the rush of, Braille on our skin, on our skin
We swim without a word between us. Our breath held in
We? read enough in the rush of, Braille on our skin, on our skin Oh, oh, oh
For you, I leave my light on.
To do its best against the storm.
And you came with the tide in.
And I knew that we could keep each other warm.
You bring crocosmia and fuschias. And I sing your name into the night.
A king? of salt and stones, your compass, It swings from you to me tonight.
We swim without a word between us. Our breath held in.
We reel in love in the ocean, Braille on our skin, On? our skin....


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To listen:

Diabolo Menthe

Garbage - I think I'm paranoid

Nightimer

From the corner of my eyes I see movement. We're Thursday, school tomorrow. I'm standing at the sink, doing the washing while Mano is supposedly getting into bed. Peripheral vision register a small body picking something up the pen-pencil-craft box. I soundlessly put down the dishes and creep in The bedroom. Mano's here, a paintbrush in one hand, the second on on the lamp post, ready to flick the light on and off. Aunty's Lola phosphorescent ink open. He's getting a moon and a star ready...