secret place

my happy thoughts are places, are rooms that i can alter and add or subtract windows and doors, in my mind the layouts of homes and structures i've inhabited for long and short periods of time. it's the only sheep to guide my sleep a ceiling view of floor map and feng shui. it's all i care about when i'm listening quietly to any conversation that has no form beyond forms, interests i do not share, concerns over concepts i cannot render into 3d graphics of plumbing, wiring, roofing, gardening equations. i may seem attentive but we're in different chambers and i've probably already spoken my peace. 

it is perhaps vestige of reading A Little Princess, a children's novel by Frances Hodgson Burnett, first published as a book in 1905. It is an expanded version of the short story "Sara Crewe: or, What Happened at Miss Minchin's", which was serialized in St. Nicholas Magazine from December 1887, and published in book form in 1888.

sarah crewe could imagine herself out of anywhere, and any situation, just as long as her posture was straight, her inner compass could find the north out of any hall, down any corridor, to where the tiniest draft of wind came through and there, to where there was snow or summer beyond. the minchins like the munchausen were helpless to hold her thoughts, had no check to keep her, like heidi, from having heavy hair. heidi was objectively inspired by the little princess and her author still lives, a neighbor in switzerland to tina turner. the myth of these children who were greater than any envy of them who used the divine power of imagination to elicit faith from them for the adversity they overcame. 

stay in what powered you as a child and there is no power on earth to stop those thoughts manifesting. 

so i move about between rentals and have agency over none. and my mother holds the sale of family home to give out money among the heirs. i rank second, first female, as of today, still unwed. it's my culture and my place to name my blog the last farm, nobody would sell it. as if at her death i could not get all siblings from four divorces and extended family names. nee, the survivors of gibson hoot, to buy it back. its not like i've spent the last 15 years since our father, the builder constructed our legacy through faith and his own skillful imagination. you just cannot build an empire with an aquarius who seeks change, without clear hirarchy of descendants, the one best suited for the business of building, an agent that can change without loosing the intention. when we marry, we marry for family. divorce leaves children, especially girls financially vulnerable. 

FH Burnett knew this and told our story. and it gets told time and time again on cinema, and every time the male producers get it wrong, becky is so dirty she seems black (african) she is irish, sarah is very pale, has black hair (because her mother is definitely indian) and green eyes, and in the end, it's her father's friend who finds her, not her father. and yes it's supposed to be weird in a romantic way. our imaginations have mapped every sensible outcome and redesigned almost every room. there is no farm to sell.