blush of dawn Jade Nicole Beals

A Call As If I Knew It

As you see now, this blog is now on WordPress and you had nothing to do; you were just here.

The links have been added, design worked with, and all past posts from Blogger have been posted!

I knew it was time last night to get up and go and yet I have kept a bit of Blogger nostalgia on here by also including a link on the Menu at the top of the main page to view a snapshot of my Blogger profile and interests. I was really stubborn in that abandoned Blogger mansion posting and echoing for years with the same little technical failures to fight, but I did what I needed and this site is all settled!


Well, my mysteriously missing pillowcase I had written about in a recent post has showed up in the pile of laundry just out of the dryer today, so a ghost or thief probably did not take it (or maybe they felt it would be nice to return it; not all ghosts wish to steal.) 😉


When I read a book, usually I will not hear a narrator, but the silent impression of my own voice or some even more silent narration that doesn’t really have a sound at all. But as I have recently read and translated May Ziadeh’s poems and would read the handwritten ones, at times a poem might be read as if in a woman’s voice with an accent, not audible and not purposely read this way, but heard, and with a calm and beautiful sound.


Last night as I was falling asleep, I’d heard a call, my name, in the voice like in the poems, but more energizing, a happy, slightly teasing tone, as if about to tell me there’s this perfect place to go she’d just found, and…Come on! 🙂 I fell asleep amused by that.

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