To dream is to starve doubt, feed hope. 

Dear friends and other interesting creatures, 

Sitting on a blanket in a field of sunflowers, typing on a retro style typewriter while eating sour dough bread with salted butter, brie cheese and fig preserve. 

An ever so delicate breeze would pick up a strand of my hair. A delightful shade of purple would dance against the blue sky. 

Stetched out on the blanket, I look up. I close my eyes while darkness rolls in with a gift of stars. A million flickering delights. 

Are you shining just for me?

I wish you enough 

Wenchy 

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