Being charmed is such a small, wonderful sensation. The intricate metalwork of the Eiffel Tower, some March snowflakes drifting down on me from an upper storey. It was too crowded, the elevators congested and taking forever. The postcards with cats while I never spied a single feline in the 3 weeks I was there. But the Tower was enchanting. So glad I set up that tour before I arrived. I would not have been patient enough for those outrageous lines. 

The moment of being charmed is so intimate.  It cannot be expected.

 What am I on about?! Trixie is an absolutely miniature cat. Maybe she's a runt? Her eyes are saucers and the grey ticked parts of her short coat are exquisite. She's very curious. She absolutely adores Christopher. Lily is definitely on the defensive.

I'm angry because I'm hungry, but when I go to eat it's just so unpleasant on my tastebuds. My legs are ready to move. Like really move and walk. And dance?

I guess anger is what I must express in art. Or passion. Sometimes I don't feel the difference.

Hope. Literal dry throat thirst. Possibilities.