I've often revisted the muse that is Little Red Ridinghood. All these Reds have wandered off to new homes now, but I still think of them fondly and miss them.
1.29.2008
1.27.2008
Pacific January Angel
The rest of the members of The Cart
don't like her baldy-ness,
but somehow it just suited her.
That's an old key around her neck. I've got lots of them tucked around here. Can we guess anything about someone who collects keys? Is it someone with secrets? Someone desperate to unlock the mysteries of things? Maybe someone who finds beauty in the minutia of everyday. Or maybe keys are just pretty.
1.20.2008
Antidote for Gray

1.17.2008
Curiouser and curiouser. . .

1.08.2008
Raggedy Heaven
Poor things, little embroidered hearts
exposed for all the world to see.
I like to picture them in a better place
(rather than in the bottom of some long-forgotten toy box,
squished under so much Barbie paraphernalia);
a place where frayed yarn hair is the height of fashion,
and contoured waistlines are considered icky;
a place where every Annie has an Andy
(or another Annie, whatever);
a place where striped stockings hang
on clotheslines in the sun,
and aprons are entirely optional.
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