Working on a review for Galatea Resurrects . I've lived with this book for almost a month now. Carrying it everywhere I go, reading it and re-reading it. Thinking about it a lot of the time because all the words I tried to write about it, didn't seem quite right. And then, I woke up yesterday and the words were on the edge of my tongue...but I couldn't find the book. What a panic! It turns out it got buried under a pile of clothes I was ironing. Phew. Sigh of relief.

Working on a new story, again inspired by another painting. What is it with paintings and stories these days? I hope I do get around to finishing this one. I have so many stories hanging up in the air. Like balls of crystal light, just hanging there, frozen in mid-air.

Drat. I should be able to finish one of these stories. This one is called, The Sun's Bastard Children. I'll let you guess which painting this story took its inspiration from. One clue, the painter isn't Remedios Varo...