Words and pages

Has anyone else ever noticed how beautiful a blank page can be? Or considered the possibilities for greatness that are inherent in it? Every page contains possibilities: the next great novel or work of art, a symphony, even a simple idea that could change the world. Blank pages and their beauty are not a topic that consumes me, but rather one that - every time I start to write - intrigues me.

One of my favourite things to do is to go into a newsagency or book shop, buy myself a pen and notebook, and sit down to write. Most of what I write is of very little import: some beginnings of stories, some descriptions of characters, some abstract ideas, and sometimes scribbled drawings. Most of the things I scrawl onto the blank pages are fairly meaningless, and very rarely go beyond a page of writing. It still amuses me: playing with words amuses me. It probably helps my intellect along as well - I have a weakness for using long words, just because of the way they trip off the tongue. There are some books I read merely for the vocabulary; the plots aren't great - but who cares when you can read words like theirs! It's all about the words really.

At the moment I'm sitting in a noodle restaurant waiting for a very large meal. I'm probably not quite that hungry, but the side dish I'm getting is very tasty and worth the subsequent bloated feeling.

See, there's another "words" example; I could have just said "the food's good enough that I don't mind feeling stuffed." But I didn't, because it wasn't as elegantly phrased...

Holland again...

Have re-changed my mind to Holland - I just like tulips :)

And windmills...


...and clogs (which are apparently called Klompen - with a name like that, you can see why the style never took off in Australia) ...

...and putting random pictures on the net...

... and here's Dennis - she finally sat still for long enough!