Driven by the forces of instinct, whim, sentimentality. There is nothing in me that isn’t emotion; viscerous, womanly. I never listen to anybody. I behave as though I am fearless, though in reality I am only reckless, I know my fears inside out and so I can afford to provoke them. I wear my scars on my sleeve like they're something to be proud of, and sometimes I am proud of them. I am one of those people who believe that love is always eternal, even if eternity only lasts five minutes. Because there is only one thing in the world that is stronger than love – and that is its absence.
Who Am I?
People have often mistaken the name of my blog for the person who I am; a vain, shallow, wicked and selfish narcissist. I suppose I am a little bit of everything, but aren’t we all? If you take a little stroll down the garden path and through the secret garden guarded by Rocky the troll and the invisible flying dragons, past Commander Vimes and his Watchmen, past the little blue men and you might find me surrounded by knights, kings and queens, damsels in distress, daemons, valkyries, swarthy adventurers the like of Dirk Pitt, creatures of myth and legends, the Tai-Pan and King Rat, Toranaga and Charlie Trumper, hobbits and Ents, witches and warlocks, Sherlock Holmes and his faithful sidekick Dr. Watson, Hercule Poirot, Veronika and Santiago the Shepherd and many more faithful acquaintances.
I am an avid reader and writer. I am traditional, yet modern, part Alice in Wonderland and should have been born in the 1920s or even the 1800s or even in the Ancient Civilizations of Rome and Egypt. I adore antiquities and anything to do with Ancient History and Civilizations. I write, I read, I overdose on coffee and dream of being back in London.
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