My sister, who is moving to Ireland in a few weeks, gave me some of her old clothes, which included some of her scarves. She covets her scarves, so I felt very lucky to obtain some of them.
Tonight I wore one to class (even though it was 100 degrees out at 6:30). I blamed the cold classroom, but ultimately, I wanted to wear it.
The colors of the scarf are striking. It holds a detailed collaboration of pinks, browns, and blues, and then the rich golds jump out like little stripes of sun.
I felt very poetic and writer-ly in this scarf. I felt it in my hair wrapped in a loose bun. In my black, flowy, post-pregnancy cover-the-belly shirt and black framed glasses.
I think that’s why I told the class tonight that my Masters is in creative writing, in poetry. I almost felt wrong saying this because I haven’t written much, especially since my blog entry here about how I must write...
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