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”