The morning was fuzzy, then I found myself in Whitby. Saw a tiny puppet show by the sea, and got lost inside an antiques shop that went on and on... There was an open fire right at the back surrounded by dolls and their houses, victorian prams and dusty high chairs... In one of which sat a doll with no face and who's hands were sewn to her face as though crying. I wanted to take her home, but I couldn't. The lady at the front told me all about the sad little doll in the back, she said she usually stands in a corner but she keeps moving around. I feel upset for not giving her a home, but maybe she's ok by the sea and the fire...
No comments:
Post a Comment