Poor Lewis Carroll, today is the day all of his un-birthdays have run out. All 364 used up and nothing left to celebrate except an actual birthday for one of the most important authors in my own path to authoring nonsense for the enjoyment of children. Happy Birthday old friend.
Little Birds are writing
Interesting books,
To be read by cooks:
Read, I say, not roasted--
Letterpress, when toasted,
Loses its good looks.
(from Sylvie and Bruno Concluded)
O frabjous day! Calooh! Callay!
ReplyDeleteToday's artwork tis brillig, Brian.
Thanks for the reminder,
Anne
You're welcome for the reminder...celebrate with a little good reading. I'm reading Three Sunsets later today.
ReplyDeleteGlad you like the artwork. The top picture is a photograph I took, mixed with an image of this amazing Alice Liddell doll that I found on etsy (sadly only after it sold). The portrait is a L.C. self-portrait mixed with this really frighteningly beautiful photo of a child.
The more I read of his life, the more unlikely a brilliant author he seems - and yet he is. Going back to your earlier posts, it shows how strange a beast imagination is.
ReplyDelete