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Location: Dublin, Republic of, Ireland

Wednesday, 2 April 2008

I haven't yet opened the new blog, I had mentioned that I wanted to. I was away for a couple of days. I should do it like, right now. :-)

All I want is a desire to write on books and other things I love like opera, old world films, plays and cuisine, with a deeper fortitude and seriousness than I have done here. But especially on literature and writing.
I have to update my Wordpress site as well which has started off very nicely featuring my poems and hopefully later on, my fiction. So at least, that's been sorted.

It's funny how as I've got older, life feels so exciting especially that I wear my heart on my sleeve
and always look forward to a new day when I'm in a good mood. I really know myself, who I am as a person and what I want. My path is focussed and I do love the way a crystalline egg-shell beauty shapes up all the little happy things, I enjoy; blowing it up into a sparkly bubble. And this often, to a point of tears. Bookshops, teashops, parks and smiles. No doubt, it's the little flyaway things often sidelined, that hold the soul for a silent eternity.

Joys are priceless aren't they. In some ways, they cost nothing and in others, everything. I value and cherish my life to a point where my grasp for value has become immeasurable.

And as an example:
I went into Eason's yesterday and when I saw Salman Rushdie's The Enchantress of Florence, tears filled my eyes. I had waited eagerly for the novel. Already, I have stocked up several exciting contemporary reads that include Hanif Kureishi, Martin Amis, Julian Barnes, Kunal Basu, Nicola Barker, Dorothy Koomson, some poetry and all my favourite classics. Books are my only desired treasured chest in this world.

How delicately, I fingered each page. How brashly I paid its cost at the check-in counter without a second thought...the only emotion secured, being delight.

I'm also using the British weekend newspapers as a guide, to place my orders for brand-new reads at Waterstone's. There is much romanticism in the way the Observer would interview writers who focuss their memoirs on mothers, kitchens and foods or the review pages in these papers that are often laid out in a seductive fashion.

And I am growing plants. There is such an awed feeling with cradling the potted plant into the great outdoors and then watch renewed life unfold, from an appetite of nothing more than sunshine and water.

I feel really good about my life right now. But mostly, because I'm reading so much and writing creatively again.

Besides, I've said it before and I'll say it again. Ireland is magic so let the party begin.

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