B ack in the Lpool

I've been on holiday for a very long time. I have made some many pictures thanks to giving control of the Tauveron camera to Kasha. She is very good at that hold steady n click that I fail to achieve. I have shaky hands. Small trembles which are no good for capturing slices of life.

Anywho, I am back here sitting at my lovely kitchen table listening to the sounds of Jenny doing the dishes. She has a strange compulsion to start and by my housewife/husband. Makes me think she got some good training in her over there in Texas.

Kasha, Dianne et Tmo are long gone. GTT for the small one.

No idea what this Sunday holds in store for us. Yesterday was a visit north to Southport to ride along the coast on bicycles and the a stop to drink cidre. People say I never smile anymore and, now, I know why. I miss my bicycle. Either riding the bicycle creates a wind effect that pushes my face up into smile position 3.2 or it's a genuine reaction of pure enjoyment.

Later, if my legs are ever amputated and I'm unconscious and unable to make medical decisions, I want this: wheels.

Geraud and I are considering going to Scotland this coming weekend...Although, there is many a thing to do in Liverpool that very same weekend.

And in conclusion, I'd like to pose one question of futurism.

What should Geraud and I do and WHERE?

over n out

SIGUR

I hope this isn't too personal for some Poules.

I was just looking at pictures of a baby Sigur born this year to two parents in France. They are now forever responsible and traceable to their one act of passionate love. To one night of misplaced lust encouraged perhaps from drink, however this may only be personal experience speaking.

I've been hosting a hoard of sisters for weeks now. Two sisters, two weeks. Enough to stir a storm when you lead and live a personal independent life. The responsibility of amusement is hard enough to bear, the responsibility of joy is so much harder. Anyways, Jenny is back to her old games. Tickling Geraud. Laughing at his laughs. Drinking to his drinks.

I don't know that I like. But tomorrow we take a bus miles away to a city full of men, so perhaps she will be distracted, but I think she gets her kicks from familiarity.

Today I miss New Orleans I miss freganism I miss freedom on two wheels with wind and pink nights in my eyes. Geraud is contemplating moving to america but can only really come if we marry and I, I do not like religion, except for ritual sacrifice. (Although, I love a good party)

For now, I should pack, make sandwiches, break up the flirting in the second room and try to consol a broken forehead.

I also find it high time that these girls figure out what it is they are going to do; even if it's only daily.