h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

CC, here's a poem to go with your picture.

The motorway service station is a stage
for unexpected meetings
unacknowledged greetings.

Where a lonely driver glances from his coffee
to see a mother comforting a child
and remembers.

Where lads hurrying to a match
pass old ladies wearing black
and sense another story.

And sometimes in the morning
where chairs stand neat in lines,
tables are neat and empty
and everything is silent,

the light sneaks through the window
clothes the vending machine in gold
like a promise that our lives
still resonate with others.

Drat!
That should be
'Tables are clean and empty.'

Holy poets, Poetlady, you are a masterpiece of word and wonder. I thank you so much. This poem is a treasure, an honour indeed. You and I and Mister D, and others, we should make a book!! Word and poem and photo and drawings.

Lovely poem! Thanks for that.

Glad to be able to share in the .

Share in the magic! Yes!! That's it!



S'cuse me friends, I'm just having an inspiration burst here. Uh oh... .

I'm really grateful to the folks who run hootoo. I'm so grateful for this space here in and for my journal space. I am learning to live my vision, and to have the space to do that is awesome.



Let me explain, as if you don't know already ... . Ignore me, I'll (not) go away. haha



How precious it is to have a space where I can offer daydreams, or a photo or a piece of writing, and then it leads to collaboration with you guys, and you offer the jewels of your own vision.



This is my vision, my way of living! Always has been! This is what I'm about!! Sharing my rough diamonds, watching them take on a new shine through the eyes, the senses of others.




Here's my photo-postcard of a pink snail. It went pink because I did something funny with the camera, but I like it.

What?? Where?? Just an example. .

Now, in collaboration with you guys, my pink snail postcard could rhyme in an entirely new way, become illuminated by the poetry in shell spirals, or become a scifi consideration of Reading town centre or .... or .... or anything! Who knows where my pink snail is heading. .



And that, for me, is the miracle and the spiritual journey of the creative process.



Sorry to use the word spiritual, but, for me, it is. Doesn't mean I can't be stupid though.



I have so many photos. . I'm thinking of joining a camera club, just to chare. However I don't really want to talk technical, because I don't understand cameras. . I want to share the photos and make stories with others. So I'll do it here for now. Lucky you. teeeheee.

Momeeee! I want to play. I'm such a kid. .

Thanks for allowing it.



I would go back and edit all this, but think I'll just leave it in its spontaneous splurge ... sorry to go on. Important for me to say it.

The edited version could read 'thank you for everything! And the connection between pink snails and Reading town centre is entirely random.'

Typo. Chare of course, meaning share.

I have no intention of charing a meeting of the camera club. .

Chare is a thing I sit on. Spelt funny. .

Pink snails and the poetry of snail shells? I'll away and think about that