⛾ The Lady of Alot

Just a short entry this morning, to give salutations.

Salutations.

It is go-time, dearest reader. Though I maintain my wholeness, my stillness, and my active waiting, there is a certain modularity that I retain and will come in handy now. The pilgrim known as Theozete toils under electric lights, but the Ageless "I" finds repose in some warm, flowery meadow, unbothered by time or space, and of course, posed in some dreamy, picturesque pose of flowing Pre-Raphaelite gown and hair, adorned by flowers that somehow fall on their own, fully in tact, out of pure romantic will. 

Is she dreaming about knights, mushrooms, or watering her cottage garden? Why not all? Who is to say?