If you’ve visited here before you’ll have to noticed two of my favourite things are words and colors.
So dying a dictionary seemed the obvious thing for me to do.
30 years ago this month I began high school.
30 years ago? Lordy!
Equipped with the essentials dictated by the school, I now owned a Pocket Oxford Dictionary.
(At over 1000 pages and a good 2 inches thick, the average pocket size of an eleven year old child negated its title.)
Nonetheless this book has travelled with me through the decades.
Battered, dog-eared, with scribbled notes in the margins here n there…
… the spine went first but now it’s cover has separated totally from its papery wordfilled heart.
In it’s new incarnation – a colorful version of the former – it will one day become collage ingredients.
As an aside, I sometimes catch a glance of myself in my art room, as if from an outsiders perspective. I’m ironing torn, stained scraps of paper. Phrases like ‘not doing anyone any harm’ in bemused but sympathetic tones echo in my head. I smile. They just don’t understand. Anyway, I do it cos I have to and it makes me happy. Nuff said.
