My mother named me Christina Dawn. I prefer not to be called Chris, but most people call me that anyway.

I am older than I look and younger than my age. I’m equal parts Peter Pan and Wendy. I almost never write updates for this site, but I still feel like I need to have it. It’s for when I want to really just write something.

Even if it’s just a longer-than-Facebook-can-handle triviality.

The blog title was inspired by this poem:

The room was suddenly rich and the great bay window was

Spawning snow and pink roses against it

Soundlessly collateral and incompatible:

World is suddener than we fancy it.

World is crazier and more of it than we think,

Incorrigibly plural.  I peel and portion 

A tangerine and spit the pips and feel

The drunkenness of things being various.

And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world

Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes —

On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of one’s hands

There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.

Louis MacNeice, “Snow”