i could live in a treehouse

treesucka
Originally uploaded by marinkel.

i don't need much. i just need stories. i love to listen and talk less. my ears are tuned to the sounds of nature and these include human memories. i want to make pictures in the woods some more. right now the sun makes the most beautiful colors and shades through the sprouting foliage. i expect to be seen there again with a basket and some red wine. only grandmother's dead already and the big bad wolf turned out to be quite harmless when you know how to take him. he, too, can tell me stories. so it's a new version of the same old tale from long ago. and that's my chance, to make something new of the old. i do not care about the past to dwell on it or live in it. i simply want to weave new tapestries with the pictures of the past.
i already live in a treehouse. it has curtains in the window and they are red with white polkadots. like the fly mushroom. red riding hood, remember she was picking flowers? they were the secret ingredients to make a magic potion. she wasn't looking for grandmother's house. the witch was waiting for her to teach her the secret art. tell her the story of the woods.
there's a story by blackwood called the man who loved the trees and i hated it cause it was so pretentious, went on way too long and was so unrealistic that it would be the man and not the woman who listened to the whisperings of the ancient giants. on top of it there was the clichee birkenstock lady whom he related to. i have met the type who claims to know how one is to properly love nature. i don't care for such people. me, i went to the woods in my high heeled boots and sat on a tree stump. it was my throne and i was faerie queen. and that is how i belong.