Words after midnight
Notes on making a life, making things, and occasionally making a mess.
Pip the paper ghost
A small cream ghost keeps watch by the doorway, two dot eyes peeking out. It is very keen on the eighth paperclip.
The paper airplane
A folded paper plane loops around the roof, looking for someone to deliver the next good idea to.
The desk sprig
A little green sprig sits beside the desk, as fresh as a first line and twice as hopeful.
The path stones
Two smooth stones sit on the ground, paperweights for the drafts that might blow away.