February 16th in pictures.

I walk into town with the intention of going to church. I make it to the bus stop and then decide that I’ll go to Dane John Gardens instead. My hair feels light and it dances about my head in the soft breeze. I go up to the Dane John Mound, I am surprised by how beautiful Canterbury is. I send this photo to a friend and remain on the mound for a while.

DSC_0164Soon I am surrounded by tourists and as it’s getting chilly I decide to leave. I walk along the wall and stop to look back at Dane John Gardens.DSC_0165I cross the bridge, walk past the bus station and head towards Burgate – it’s one of my favourite streets. I really like walking down that street, especially after it rains. I walk towards the Cathedral and stop to admire a window, just because. Two children are racing each other beneath it so I wait to take my photo, I don’t want to ruin their game.

DSC_0166The way the sunlight falls on the window and the little balcony is lovely. I continue down Burgate towards the Buttermarket where I find out that the Cathedral Café is opening on February 18th! I have high expectations of that café, it used to be a Starbucks but they closed. The rooms are beautiful. I go into the Cathedral and find that there is a service going on. There are no chairs in the nave, just how I like it.

DSC_0168There are a couple of chairs near the choir, I sit down to listen to the sermon. I find it somewhat discouraging; the priest talks a lot about “holy living”, about how we must show good outward behaviour and inner integrity. But he talks as if it all depends on us. I argue with him in my head, what if you feel you can’t control your emotions? What happens when you’re depressed, suicidal, angry? I wait until the end of the sermon but sadly he doesn’t say that there’s room for messiness. I think about Jesus and how his love for me doesn’t change, even when I’m not well-behaved and when I’m angry, cynical and an emotional mess. Down in the crypt I write a prayer on one of those post-its they have and leave through the side door. I walk out through the back to admire the Roman ruins for a while…

DSC_0173I’m beginning to get hungry so I eat a banana while balancing the camera to take photos of the houses in the precincts.
DSC_0175They are so beautiful! I go out of the main gate and turn right. I walk down Sun street and left behind Debenhams. The Salvation Army is playing hymns outside Costa, whose terrace is very busy. I decide to go into the Beaney, a library and museum. I go upstairs to my favourite room…
DSC_0178where I take photos of frames…

DSC_0180DSC_0192  Because I like frames…DSC_0185

I really, really like frames.DSC_0183DSC_0179

I also think the arrangement of the paintings is nice…it must be the blue wall, I have a soft spot for blue.

DSC_0190 There is a pretty little sculpture on display.

DSC_0191After that I visit some of the other rooms and make sure I rush by the one with all the stuffed animals and dessicated butterflies – they’re torture for me!  Downstairs I stop by the room where they do itinerant exhibitions and take a peek at the sunlight coming through the window behind the white panel…

DSC_0193…only to realise that there are drawings and writing all over the panel and the window!

DSC_0194It’s hilarious. But once I’m outside I realise that one of the employees is cleaning all the writing off the windows, she must not be very amused. The Beaney from outside:
DSC_0197The sky is so beautifully blue! I continue my way towards Westgate and decide to make a detour down Stour street. But first I photograph the facade of Boho – a place that many people have recommended and I have refused to try, that’s how stubborn I am.

DSC_0201Boho is next to one of my favourite buildings in Canterbury but I keep trying to get a good photo and none of them do it justice. I think the fascinating thing about the building is letting it surprise you when you walk on Best Lane towards the High Street. There is a moment between the Olive Grove and the Oxfam shop where the building just jumps at me and I realise how beautiful it is and wish that it wasn’t home to Prezzo and Chimichanga…they just kill the mood. In Stour Street I am ambushed by a crowd of teenagers who speak German and have decided to take photos of the dirty phone booths, it makes me chuckle. I decide that it’s time to take a few last pictures and walk home. DSC_0202-cropI have loved this street lamp since the first time I saw it. It looks gorgeous against the purple sky at twilight. I stop at the bridge to look at the river.

DSC_0205I wish Greyfriars Gardens were open. I walk across the bridge and decide it’s time to go home.

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The beauty of rainy days.

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Yesterday morning I pestered James (the cat) by pointing a camera at him for about 15 minutes. I’d never lived with a pet before moving to this house, I’ve always been slightly afraid of allowing any animals near me. But this old skinny cat has won me over completely. He sat beside me yesterday while I was having breakfast and I thought that his fur looked beautiful against the black and white of the blanket he was sitting on.

This morning I felt like exploring the garden. I found some beautiful things and thought I’d share them here. The garden bursts with gorgeous autumnal colours.

Yessica Dædalus.

The place of eternal dance.

Take me to the hills
where I can taste and see
that you are good.

Don’t let me wander around
Ghostlike; a medias,
afraid to get over myself.

Don’t let me be satisfied
with walking in the Valley of the Shadow of Life,
let my soul yearn for Life itself.

Take me beyond what my eyes can see;
teach my feet to walk on these blades of grass,
and my lips to drink from these mighty rivers,
let me live in the joy of knowing you.

Take me deep into the hills
to the place of eternal dance.

 

– Yessica Dædalus, 2013

Steinach.

Uhrzeit: 21:49 (UTC+1:00)
Ort: Steinach/ The middle of nowhere (to me).

4 people at a train station
2 smoke
2 write, numbers and letters
1 lifts her legs on her suitcase. She waits for a call.
1 wonders why her friendliness was met with blank stares and the shrugging of shoulders.
2 chat. They keep each other company.

Dozens of crickets sing to the clear sky, or to each other. Who knows?
We lift our head in anticipation whenever a train approaches.
We wait for the unplanned, the impossible.
Only big, bulky cargo trains rush by,
leaving us immersed in silence
until the sound of the crickets rises
from beneath the blackness of this summer evening
whose language I can barely speak.

 

– Yessica Dædalus, 2013

Along the river bank.

I miss you. Again. I am very tired of missing you.
After all, you chose to leave. You ceased to write or call
or send birthday cards.

I miss you even though you never liked my poems
or my drawings and paintings or my rants about exhibitions.

I miss you even though you didn’t like my taste in sitcoms
and thought I wouldn’t be able to appreciate your music.

I miss you even though we are so unsuitable for each other.

I miss you because you saw me. You wanted to know me,
for me.

You didn’t want my theological knowledge
or my grades. You weren’t even after my body.
You saw beyond all that.  Always.

You are incredibly beautiful. Utterly loved.
Wonderfully made.
I hope you know that now.

I miss you. And I look out the window
and walk along the river bank
hoping to see you again.

I never do. I walk on.

 

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– Yessica Dædalus, 2013

I’ve been to the place where love begins…

I’ve been to the place where love begins. It was years ago, when she was small and veiled. The place – surrounded by water – was a faint decaying yellow. It had seen generations come and go and every day many would populate its halls.

The excitement grew large inside her as she saw the reflection of a smile on the window of the morning train. But the relentless voices in her head would shout:

                                                                             UGLY
                                                           Little.
                           
                                             
                                       Stranger!
One day the place bloomed suddenly. Sunshine fell on the yellow bricks; he smiled. The voices quietened; he spoke

Beautiful.
The place were love begins was like the tulip fields in April. It had been there during cold winter nights waiting for two strangers.




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Hey there! My first post of 2013, yay! It’s just a piece of fiction. I’d appreciate feedback.

Much love,


Yessica.