Dandelion Florence
Bio
Musician, artist, noise-maker, linguist, translator, procrastinator, obsessive energiser, multi-focused activist, ludicrous antagonist and farcical pre-coffee communicator.Stories (2/0)
Push
Shut in a box. A small cardboard box, pale silver and soft, like blotting paper with dapples of blue and pale orange subtle bumps on the surface. The box has a lid made of the same soft blotting paper card. It is neatly folded down and round, holding all the four corners snuggly solid. Slowly edging their way around the internal perimetre of the box, toes pressed softly up to the edge, tentative and tactile, wanting to push forward yet scared of meeting crocodiles. The toes explore, hoping to find a foothold, or a mouse hole, to loosen the grip of the four parallel walls. The nose feels warm, smells closeted, soft wooly air with a hint of apple juice and dust. Sharp fresh air, vibrant and cutting, freezing the inner hairs deep within their den is a long forgotten taste of memory lingering in the hidden innermost corners of the nostrils. Secreted away from the world, a hidden memory of time.
By Dandelion Florence3 years ago in Poets
A Trichy Story
A Trichy story. Where do I start? Well, maybe right here because my hand keeps straying up to my head to pick at the bumpy, crusty scabs on my scalp. I better start typing something in order to occupy both hands, and make a start on this story. It is one of my stories, and one aspect of me. My name's Dandelion, and since the age of 5 I have been continually fighting an inner dance of detachment with my hair. Or more finely put, in the most part, my eyelashes and eyebrows.
By Dandelion Florence6 years ago in Psyche
