blatherdotnewdreamdotnet sabbie and through my window i can see the gentle blue river meandering through the wide green field, and every day, every hour i press my face to the glass and bask in its beauty from afar. and every couple of days i unlock my window, i let out my hair, i throw off my (some say thin) corporate disguise and clamber out onto the windowsill and leap out into the grass where i run and run and run until i am at the rivers edge. this river has stepping stones placed carefully down, wide flat sun-warmed stone that form a path not across but down my blue river, and gladly do i jump onto the first one and jump from rock to rock down my river. the stones themselves are carved, letters and words and sentances and thoughts and ideas and phrases all left here for me by people i know yet don't know, people i recognise even though i have never seen, never met them, for whenever i clamber out my window once more. carefully i leap to a fresh rock and crouch down, chisel in hand... 010829 what's it to you? who go blather from