Emma
Katyslany
Emma. ❤
(words- anais)
February 25, 2013
Tiny Magic Everyday:13
Sleeping beauty listening,
tides and springs and herds of white horses, flocks of white moths, clouds of swallows listening to wind, watching winter melting.
Here still, mirror mirror blade to ice.
Things change, distances are grown, and nothing changes, never changed.
I could write a book of longing and a book of forgetting and a book of remembering.
Crossing bridges alone, being not enough and too much.
Angels taking their places, taking you in their arms.
Katy
February 23, 2013
Tiny Magic Everyday: 11
He had that dark, middle-eastern kind of beauty, strong brow and eyelashes that trailed lightly on the ground behind him as he walked away from me down the silver sand path.
Emma.
February 21, 2013
Tiny Magic Everyday : 9
I couldn’t even flinch my finch,
We have so many years of missing of nostalgia of the mono no.
The wabi sabi tree waiting for us to grow it and grow our books and volumes.
We are writing.
The manifesto of Primordial Romance.
We will grip our hearts to give them wings my dove
We will see into our minds and our teeth will chatter until they sing the songs of paper heart birds.
We will wet the hearts of every sweet honeysuckle.
We will build our bones to the sky, reaching and hunting for our transcendent home
We will find home in the recklessness of our hand in hand
We will look in the window of eachother’s faces and take our lives to make more.
We will birth ourselves back into light
We will eat the poison of holy plants and grow back our roots
We will count the stars and the cycles of the moon and at every one we will hold hands, look up and sigh, facing one direction together, the desert , the riverbed the mountain.
We will pour our beauty everywhere
We will have good ears, and be good listeners
We will let our feet shift beneath us, non attachment to place and space
We will get slick and messy with pain (t)
We will paint eachother. as much as possible, bird wings licked onto skin, seahorses and wind chimes.
We will take eachother to the ocean when we are sad.
We will not stop.
We will end
We will begin.
Wake up in the morning hearts clutched hands woven
Katy
February 18, 2013
Tiny Magic Everyday:6
Writing love letters on tracing paper your ephemeral song kisses every limb until I stretch into my wild body instrument thing.
Your hair grows branches until it is weaving under the currents of your endlessness.
We are singing lullabies to eachother’s voices. You unwind your clock and I hang up my keys. Let this be sung, let this be heard.
Our anchors are floating towards the cloud like that holy hot air balloon we went on somewhere over a faerie landscape, a desert of our dreams and favoulite thoughts. Holding hands is like singing and.its also like dancing with you my muse. Sleeping is like holy hibernation and our paws are curled in to eachother like a little sausage on a scooter we rode under a moon so full it sank with its own heaviness.
February 13, 2013
The Tiny Magic Everyday Project
Once upon a time we were young and small with turned-up noses and huge eyes, and all the world was wild and beautiful, and we felt very big and very small. But when our hands were woven together we felt just the right size.
We had each flown across the great Atlantic on albatross wings in search of our magic powers and potions to calm our tiny storms. Katy found herself at The Narrowing of the River; Emma in The Brick Kingdom; both of us hungry-hearted with molten eyes and packs on our backs. Our mission was huge and our size was so small, and as the weeks and months passed, we slowly shrunk more and more until we felt like sea horses – our tails curling and winding around, looking for a blade of sea grass, a sprout of magic, or a golden thread to anchor to, to lead us back to eachother.
Although we couldn’t see it, spring was on the horizon and would bring our fated reunion – spotting each others’ faces across Paddington Station, boarding a runaway train to the Cornish isles. So, to count down the days and to keep ourselves brave, we did the only thing we knew.
With distance as our canvas and longing as our ink, we set about making tiny drawings. One for each day – a parade to keep us company. Sending out small tendrils towards each other, to meet in the cosmos and weave our delirious storm.
Now, six years later and apart again, we’re still held in the tapestry of those threads, which have grown thick like banyan tree roots. For the next 40 days, we’ll be dancing our storm – together + apart – creating tiny magic everyday that will live here on the island of Salastia.
We invite you to join us, we’d love to see your weavings too. Words, art, dances, music – whatever it is. ❤
Love, Emma + Katy
you can follow Salastia & this project on facebook too: facebook.com/Salastia
February 5, 2013
“Don’t give it to any girl but me.”
robert mapplethorpe and the jewelry he made. x.
“We wanted, it seemed, what we already had, a lover and a friend to create with, side by side. To be loyal, yet free.” -Patti Smith, Just Kids
February 4, 2013
Salastia 
