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I’m led to believe that some people clean their teeth in the kitchen, as they’re running out the door to their rich and fulfilling lives. A frantic pace of life where the minutes saved by not going back upstairs can make all the difference. Apparently.
The vase has been in my life forever. I remember as a kid the first daffodils of the year, plucked from the garden, proudly displayed in the sitting room, the green and yellow defiantly clashing against the wallpaper in many shades of mud. The wallpaper is still there. A mock Victorian swirl of huge unlikely flowers and fabulous birds intertwined in a tangle of creepers, all in brown. I really don’t like that wallpaper. Can you tell? The vase, with its promise of the Emerald City, I loved. I wonder where she found it. Then and now. Last seen at the bottom of a dusty cupboard, it’s become a tooth glass in the kitchen. Its promise of the Emerald City is now a promise of decay.
3regeneration 