author & ghostwriter
Yesterday, the Eiffel Tower stood before me. All my life, I had wanted to meet her in person, wanted it desperately; I pined for it, as if anxious she would one day walk away. I feared she would vanish to a different spot if I kept her waiting, for no lady likes to wait. But … Continue reading The Lady of Paris
In this post, I spoke about my New Year's Resolution: to read 30 classic novels—or at least attempt to read them—in order to work through my bookshelf. Collecting books is a beautiful thing, but that's only half the fun; the magic is in reading them! I said I would post my reading list when it … Continue reading The 2019 Reading List
Your bookshelves are empty. Outside, the leaves fall. We're waiting through The saddest autumn of all. Your piano is sleeping— Too great for my hands. Still, I will play ‘Til my heart understands. I took home your paper To sketch out your face, But you have a smile That art can't replace. The trees out … Continue reading l’automne
I'm learning to draw. It's helped me a lot with my poetry and music. This is my first mirror self portrait. I'll try again in a month. I'm happy with this, so I thought I'd share! Also—embrace the curves. :)
I stepped out today to find all of my flowers had bloomed. Gathering some into a vase, I realized why it’s important to wait for certain things—and to appreciate what's going on during the wait, even in moments when it seems no change is happening. The flowers are stunning, aren’t they? If I had rushed … Continue reading Life & Flowers
I walk in mist One chilly night, When sorrow-clouds Eclipse the light. They fill my lungs In every breath With loaded air Tasting of death. The street lights wonder, “Who is she?”— They’ve never seen The likes of me. Behind their thick Church-veil of cloud, The stars, too, gossip— Not aloud. The cobblestones Beneath my … Continue reading A Night of Mist and Questioning
What am I going to do when the season ends and my flowers begin to die? How will I cope when I go outside in the morning and, instead of seeing a new darling has bloomed, I find the stalks becoming dry and crinkly—these gentle plants that brought butterflies and bees and joy to my … Continue reading The Grudge
In Hozier's Work Song, I noticed a point in the beginning when the chorus catches a breath. It's difficult to hear if you are caught in the beauty of the song, but now that I've heard it, I think it's one of the loveliest moments. Have you ever thought of the pause before a note? … Continue reading The Breath
Writing a story is like growing a flower in the sense that you can't rush it. The plant won't bloom if you don't give it the care it requires: some need more water, others wither if you give them too much. I learned through gardening and writing that it's best not to control things too … Continue reading How Books Resemble Flowers
Recently I learned that a friend with whom I had been very close a few years ago died suddenly. I don’t know the details and don’t think I could handle getting into them. It has unearthed a whole new set of emotions in me, things I had only read about before in books. There’s the … Continue reading A Whisper in a Daydream on a Hill
This is another excerpt from my journal that I would like to share. It needs editing, but I liked it, and hope you will too! There’s a lot of light in this place. It’s a haven of pure air and high spirits. It makes me feel like there’s no darkness left in my reality; by … Continue reading A Place of Light
What does it mean to be a storyteller? Stories are places of refuge for people frightened by the realities of this world. They provide rest when we are too weak to dwell on reality. Story is salve for the wounds inflicted by life. A well-told story comforts us. We seek depth and meaning. We find … Continue reading On Storytelling
Mariella Hunt 