or who knows

the things that you run away from hunt you down 

Driving back to NY

I cannot wait—New York it is! 

so out of here 

at the end of the day it is me and the celves ….I don’t need anybody, I belong to me

 

when I was envisioning this as animation

These are from my previous blog of Electra’s dictionary; one of many other incarnations of the dictionary 

 

Electra’s dictionary and film noir(jmmusechronCont)/ of spies like us

Spy in the house of love

“So is it like I am under house arrest?” I ask from the deep plum couch that has sucked me under its spell 

He stands by the window in silhouette watching the water, and in the evening light I see how the gold still shimmers in his hair 

“Hmm….” he is lost in thought. Slowly he seems to drag himself to the present as he turns to look at me

There….it always causes such a stir both in my mind and ….within that place they call the solar plexus….it had been so long since I saw him until now….I forgot what this does to me. What he does to me. I once read somewhere that if someone makes you feel this way ….the butterflies and sweaty palms ….to run. To get away. That this person is wrong for you. It was Cosmopolitan magazine. Some article ….and there was a quiz involved, I think 

I don’t want to feel this way. 

I look away. I get up and walk around. I want to vomit. 

How does he show up in my life as he pleases?

“No, you are not under arrest,” he finally says 

He looks at me closely but I am not looking back at him. but…I feel his kryptonite