"It's Hard to Imagine a Soul More Divine..."

Hi!

Pikturs.

Firstly, Waen at the church with her peace symbol palms. We're all very proud of this one.

After that, there's the meltingly beautiful portrait the Painting Man did of me at Waen's art class reading. It's. *wibbles* Nice.

And Lillie and I! ^_____^ Squee! Tell me she isn't the yayest most adorable thing ever, I beg of you--it's an impossibility.

There's also an old one of me in my gipsy clothes, which isn't relevant but which I still like anyway.

Now, prom photographs. We didn't have a camera with us at the dance itself, so there're only beforehand pictures of Waen and I; the ones of everyone else come much later, after they're mailed to us.

Me, caught on camera being a silly with my beads.

Waen, looking absolutely lovely and smiley and yayful and I love her so much omg.

Coy look. Yay for shawls that cover everything.

And then of course the requisite SCARF BWAHAHA picture.

'Don't look at me! Don't look at me!'

Lastly of all, both of us trying to look adorable. And probably not succeeding so very well. ^_~

Okay! Now off to prepare breakfast in bed for Mum, and then to the Opera! *dances* Les Contes de Hoffman, at last!

"Fame! I Want to Live For-Ever..."

Hoffmann was beautiful, and I cried at the end.

I wanted to cry, for Hoffmann, when Olympia was broken; and for Crespel, when Antonia died; and a little for Niklausse, at the end of Guilietta's part. Then, of course, I cried at the end, when Hoffmann threw aside his table and his writing and collapsed in the chair, and La Muse had won him.

I don't like La Muse. Niklausse, but not La Muse. That's very silly, I think; but I can't quite help it.

I want to write a story... but that's all one. I want to write a story, though--

And I met a picture, a painting, of Saint Paul, at the Art Museum, and he was terrible and sad and a little beautiful, I think; and so was Saint Francis. But I've always liked Saint Francis.

It's amazing what people can do with paints.

With voices, also. Antonia was very beautiful, and Niklausse, and Hoffmann also. I felt badly for Hoffmann... He made the drinking song sad, and he brought back Kleinzach at the end and made him bitter, and I don't remember that in the recording.

Peaches are rather lovely.

I think it's a little sad to be a painting. People only look at you, mostly. I wonder if people speak to paintings the way I speak to books. I hope so. I wouldn't want to be a painting, and be lonely.

It's a little sad to be a poet, too.

"Keeping My Back to the Wall..."

Happy birthday, Maddy pet maranz! *pounces* Oh, how I love thee!

I'm afraid it's a little late in the day, but I hope that your birthday was a beautiful one, and I wish much confetti upon it, and sparklies, and hope that people were sensible but not too sensible, so that things went right.

And may geeks live for-ever. Many happy returns of the day. *squoggles closely*

"Pauvre Hoffmann, seche tes larmes..."

( Oh! That's pretty! )

I want the whole world to know about Waen, you know.

She's the most amazing person in the world, and she can do so much. She writes music and she paints more beautiful things, and she has wonderful hands that can draw anything. She can make beautiful clothes out of old cloth, and jewellery out of things she finds. She can knit and sew and embroider, and she can sculpt and mould and make pottery. She has the best ideas, and the best inventions.

She's brave and she's beautiful and there's nobody like her.

Sometimes she's angry with me, and then I wish I could fix myself, because I'd like her always to like me, because I'd feel special if she did. Because she's special.

I want to become famous so that I can make art exhibits for her, and tell famous people about her, and let the whole world know about her. I want her to be much more famous than I am, because I don't really care, but she's so special that everybody should see. Everybody ought to see what she makes and what she does and what she is.

I love her so much that I don't know how to tell her so.

She has a commanding way about her, so that you want to listen to her, and then she laughs at the funniest times. She loves music, she loves her horses, she loves her Special Things. Her closet is papered with a coffee print paper, and she did it all herself. Her room is painted with pictures, and she did it all herself. Her windows are covered with flowers, and she grew them all and takes care of all of them. She has the best memories, too.

And I wish everybody could see, so that everybody could know. She deserves for everybody to know, for everybody to love her, because she's so wonderful and she can do such things and people ought to appreciate them.

Well, that's just what I think.