When I was a little girl I used to spend hours willing myself a pair of wings. I would sit atop the stairs in my house, knees tucked close to my chest, eyes closed (not too) tightly. I would breathe in and out making sure to steal air from the deepest part of my insides. I would imagine my normal world decorated with bright colors, deep staccato drum beats and the high pitched chatter of birds. I would literally let this world take over my whole fragile being. I wanted nothing more than my imagination to consume my reality and allow my body to take flight with the hope of living forever in my own whimsy.

I have a favorites folder marked Beautiful Things. And as I am going through and moving all things blog related to my new notebook I found this:

(http://www.esao.net/)

It makes me want to sit back and sprout wings.