Dreams ahoy.

I hope to:

1. Teach dance again!

2. Study art again.

I wish everyone a wonderful new year.
Thank you for reading.

Thank you three.

red and silver belt that Gray's mum gave me
green harem pants
purple harem pants
white veil
red skirt

purple veil and all the beautiful silver jewellry that Terra gave me
silver hand jewellry that Sassy gave me
the beautiful jewellry that Margo gave me

Thank you three, again.

Suits for sale.

We went out to our beautiful land for the first time in many months today. Francis and me, we pruned the fruit trees again and Francis spotted one tiny little apple. She said to pick it, and eat it, for luck, and I did. She said she didn't want the tree wasting strength on fruit this year and if the birds were to find it they'd be back again forever. She hopes to net them so they never become known to the birds. There are many, many beautiful birds who like to eat apples.

It was sour and crisp and so pretty! It was tiny. Not nearly ready, the size of a cherry.

What a time we've had of it lately.

My art teacher called me and I told him all about it, how we've resigned from work, and how I'll have a lot more time now, once it actually happens and I leave, to organise life drawing classes and all that.
My yoga teacher is back in town. I don't know if I'll be able to afford yoga now, now I have no job. Hmmm. It won't start until next year in any case. Not that I ever really HAD this job of Miss Trouble's! But I did have money for yoga. Thank you, Miss Trouble. You did a great job. I am so proud of you.

We have so many work clothes she has put them on a basket, on their hangers. A gray suit, a honey-coloured suit, a cherry suit. Lots of rather frumpy and sensible blouses. Trouble had a particular look s/he was aiming for - extra sensible. It's not a look we'll be needing any more. It's not a particularly comfortable look for us, but it worked for her. S/he liked it. If s/he was to really leave the country and go to work in the city, and be the front for 40 hours a week or more... we'd probably dress even more like a man. Would we bind our breasts? Take testosterone? No. We'd just do as we do now, I guess. S/he doesn't want to take our woman's life away, our history, and s/he identifies more as being a child of dungeon than with being male. There's no place for us to fit in anyway. And I'm sure it's a dead end, all that fitting in, anyway. Not that it's any less a road for that. They're all dead ends, in the end, after all.

What will we do without you driving us, Trouble?
What will you do without your job?
Will you stay with us, in this life, or go back to the dungeon?

Tell me, my buddy. I don't want you to go.