I'm not sure what I was doing in November but I definitely wasn't taking pictures. I think I was dreaming (I'm usually dreaming) and I think I was planning and plotting and wishing for a little shop of my own. A real one, made from bricks and windows and wooden floors, filled by uniquities made by hand, with love. I pressed my nose up against shutters, gazed at phone numbers on 'to let' signs and whispered my dreams to my husband in those quiet moments before the pictures roll. Dreams of flying high.
(do you love my birdy? Isn't she plump and pretty and beautiful? Doesn't she fly so high? She was made by Flora May of Through the Round Window and sent to me in the summer. I'm a little in love with her red baby valentines bird...)