A yellow garbage bin, to be more precise, but it was really just a big yellow bucket, that I used to feed my horse, Boris. I used to turn it upside down to sit on it and talk to him...and to get out my notepad....and write. I must have been about twelve or thirteen years old. I would sit there, in the paddock and he would be chomping on his food listening to me talk. Or just be silent, with me, as I wrote.
The dramas and angst of pre-teen, then teen life, carefully captured in multiple notebooks and diaries, my world exposed as I explored it and tried to work it all out. Twenty five years later and I'm still writing, it's my way of thinking, of processing, and it's a refuge in my life that I have always loved.
The beauty and power of the written word.
Just cathartic and meditative and a big part of who I am. I'll always be that little girl, with hopes, dreams, tears and happiness. Contemplating the world, from my special 'throne' my trusty yellow bucket.
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