Bambi Stetson

Bambi Stetson

I have begun to take time to think about hats and fawns.  Why would I think about financial and medical matters when I could be thinking about these pleasurable alternatives?  Obsessions with hats can lead to a certain level of financial chaos.  If left unattended.  Stout emotions charge me through the day towards some level of resolution  of the numerical and health matters the devour or mask those things on which I would prefer to focus my concentration.  Sitting through a three day audit with my mind only ensconced in visions of fawns frolicking in beds of forest clover, shaded nasturtium, and beige fedoras.  It can be soiled the moment I begin to think of their health and safety.  A terror of cancer and blight putting the fawns at great risk.

I stop and repeat the word organza twelve times. Then fifteen.  I have never owned a garment mad of the fabric, but its name gives me comfort.  The word periwinkle can cast as blissful of a spell over me as I give thought to its origin, thinking of the lineage between winkle and winkie.  Words become tangible abstractions that I can clutch and squeeze like a sensory ball.

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