Thursday, 17 November 2011


I am one of a kind. Unique. Different. Individual. Solitary. There is no other like me. How can that be? I mean, surely there must be SOME other that is exactly the same as me. But no, I am told that none of us are the same. We are all created individually. Surely God must have had at least a bit of trouble at some point in time, creating a different pattern. I mean, there are only so many you can have ... right? But no. Every one of us is different.
I dream of this as I flutter softly, slowly, sometimes speeding up but slowing down again in a matter of seconds. The wind takes me where'er it chooses. I am content. I know that where ever I fall, it is that place where I was always intended to be. There I will sit, until the warmth of the ground melts me, first from the outside and slowly moving in until I am a mere drop of water. Someone may come. Perhaps they will fly straight over me in a toboggan or on a pair of skis. Or maybe the rain will wash me away. Perhaps I will land in a stream or a pond and be melted almost instantly by the cold water. Maybe I will land on a busy street and some tall man in a black suit will stand on me as he waits for the bus. Perhaps I land on the tongue of a small child trying to taste the snow. Or maybe I will fall in a wood, and not a living sole will notice me.
But it is no matter where I land. For that is where I shall remain ... well, that is until I am whooshed back up into the air as I am evaporated and I will become part of a small cloud once more. I can see the ground now, the cloud from whence I have fallen has disappeared. All I can see is a field of white. White trees are scattered throughout this field and a small white house I can just make out over to the north. I can see a small dot down below. Closer I fall, faster I fly. Yes, the dot is becoming clearer. It is a small child. A little girl. With a sledge and mittens, a red hat and a fluffy cream coat, which appears yellow against the pale snow. Closer, faster. Yes, there she goes, flying down the slope. Closer, faster. I am almost there now, my flight will shortly end. But wait, the wind has picked me up again. I am swept away. Now white is all I see. Here we go, falling once more. I am going to fall onto the roof of the white house. Smoke is billowing from the chimney. No wind, do not take me there where I will be melted before I land. Yes, over to the left a little. That's it. I have fallen. I can see more flakes up above slowly falling towards me. There is the little girl. I can see her from the roof. She is laughing. Someone is with her. A woman. A pregnant woman. Now they are embracing.
They are gone. I cannot see the woman or the girl. I have been covered and will shortly melt. I am content. This is my life. The life of a flake of snow. Different from all the rest. Unique. Individual. Solitary.
Miss Aalyn xx

Tuesday, 15 November 2011

Wonderful Voices

Some people have beautiful voices. They just seem to make music with their way of speaking. The best of them can make you feel wonderful inside, even when reciting the contents of the dictionary or a shopping list. Some of my favourites are;

-George Clooney
-David Attenborough
-Rupert Everett
-Cary Elwes
-Liam Neeson
-Eric Bana

Miss Aalyn xx

ps. and no, there is no particular reason they are all guys ... just a coincidence I guess.