all told, she's a considerate fallen god

Posted on Posted in aniseed, it's all about the whimsy, journal, squawk, the slithy toves did gyre and gimble

Squawk sings — constantly, about whatever she last overheard, or whatever stray thought passes through her head, or who knows where she gets her inspiration. I don't.

This morning… this morning I overheard her crooning a dirge to Ani about hairballs.