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Sunshine, on my face.

Warm breezes ruffling my hair

My blood wakes inside,

A smile creeps slow on my lips,

I’m alive, I’m alive, still.

©️Juliette Turrell

I always like the challenge of the 1500 word short story from my early blogging days: trap as much sensation, as much imagery into that small bite of fiction and transport the reader to another dimension. It gave me a buzz.

Those days, I remember so fondly, an online cohort of likeminded individuals, exploring writing erotica, seeing what the others came up with on a theme. It was my sanity in the toddler years. Here we are in the teenage years and you’d think this chapter would allow more time for mum to get her ‘write’ on. Well it’s different I’ll grant you that… but maybe life is just too strange at the moment.

We all change and grow, to not would be against our nature. I’ve always had periods of writers (not so much) block (but more like a void of ability to create a fiction) and during those times I’m always making words somewhere, maybe just status updates or chat fun, it’s still words.

I can see the change. Maybe it’s age or maybe it’s inspiration or lack of. I’d rather be spinning images to help my soul breathe and right now that’s more about being in the moment and expressing my feelings than getting my kink on (Sapiosexual Narratophilia maybe?)

So I seem to be creating momentary, often fleeting but still poignant to me, snippets of poetry. Which alongside the restrictions of a haiku or a tanka or any other Japanese form, helps my mind feel a little stretched. How is it that containing and restricting leads to a form of freedom of expression? I’m sure those of you with a penchant for bondage would be able to see how that works.

It’s mind yoga I guess. Welcome to my mind yoga!