My journal of big words and pretty pictures
If anyone were on the beach they would not have seen it, for Cyril’s sailboat was a negligible spot on the horizon. They couldn't see him, but he could see the shore, the first land he’d sighted in nearly two months. He adjusted his sail, aim the bow towards land, hoping he had reached the … Continue reading Sail into the wylde
A still reflection Scrying fortunes from its depths What futures divined?
The bitter grit was hard to swallow. I'm used to those little sachets of chamomile or oolong, not dregs thick enough to coat my tongue. I should've taken tasseomancy more seriously. "The first thing you see?" She pointed to the cup. "Teardrops." "Sadness. Here on the rim?" "Something like an octopus." "A warning!" Her thick … Continue reading Tasseomancy
Thin spiral notebook 