dream-scraps: house and stolen jewel.

There's a house at the end of the world. There are other houses visible from the roof, which is railed and made to walk on, but all of those houses are slowly fallng apart. The city left behind is an old-fashioned place of cobblestones and gables and shingles, hundreds of years older than the metropolises I usually dream about. The city, too, is empty. One side of the house is on the edge of a small river or large canal; there's a walkway, unrailed, between the house walls and the edge of the seawall which keeps the water out. It would be easy to fall into the canal, and hard to get back out. The structures on the other side of the water are nearly identical, but clearly disused. Behind the house there are fields, left unworked, and behind that is a forest which is slowly swallowing the field. The field itself is beginning to eat the house, which is immense; parts of it at the back have fallen down, there are trees growing in the centers of rooms, breaking the roofs, and their roots push the tile up into heaps.

The rest of the house is still inhabited. Somewhat. ( Somehow... )

"Busted."

My day? MADE.

Stephen Fry just sent me a message on Twitter. He'd posted something about having to palpate someone for an hour, for a scene.

I asked: "Do you actually palpate, or do you vaguely feel around and make important "Hmmm" sounds?"

He replied: "Yah, ok. Busted. The latter."

Actually it's made twice, but I'll tell you about the other thing later.

awesome thing two

grubbygirl: you deserve a good face-mauling today. and by that I mean witnessing one, not suffering one.

It's hockey-with-Dave time.

Later, y'all.