Presented with the odd affliction...

...of being able to play with words however inconsequential, nonsensical, or even, nonexistent those words may be, I, Danabelle Gutierrez, have no idea what I have just written right there.

Nyahahaha. Tsk.

Shorts have been the death of me. It's fantastic how that now defines me. But in essence not really. It's ironic, really. Fantastically ironic.


I printed "The Son of Man" by Rene Magritte on an A4 sized paper and placed it on my bulletin board and I can't stop looking to my right (where my bulletin board is placed) to keep staring at it. It's fantastic how I'm half wishing that the apple would just fall and stop obstructing the man's face, but I know that if it does, it wouldn't be the same man-in-a-bowler-hat that I've grown to love. I, really, I can't stop looking. Truth? I actually have another A4-sized print of him in my bedroom as well. I'm obsessed is what I am.

There's this fabulous obsession with mystery. Half of me just wants to know everything and get it over with and half of me just wants to keep it mysterious because that's what I know and what I've grown to love. The mystery of it all... There's magic in that, somehow.

Magic Mystery.

Haha. I should open up a cafe or a bar or anything with that name. Or no, wait! I should name my child that! Haha. Magic Mystery. Hot darn. That's gotta mean something.

Unfortunately, it doesn't. It's just words. Put together to pretend that they mean something... Because I felt like it. Because I've been presented with the odd affliction of being able to play with words however inconsequential, nonsensical, or even, nonexistent those words may be. And today I, Danabelle Gutierrez, have decided to play with both Magic and Mystery.

Literally and metaphorically. Maybe.