Myths and stories from around the world brought alive and singing into the here and now by storyteller, musician and poet Jay leeming.
www.JayLeeming.com This is day 73 from my "101 Days of Story," coming a bit late to the party due to a technical glitch. But ready to go!
This is day 72 from my "101 Days of Story," which is a bit late to the party due to a technical glitch.
www.JayLeeming.com The story of Scheherazade from "Stories from 1001 Nights," told by Jay Leeming as part of the 101 stories in 101 days project all the beans but one and eternity has a hole in the side a little hatch out of which the clever person clambers with a bag containing a carrot and the stub-end of a candle who knows if he might be God in disguise?
He has been washed clean of his gift. "King Midas and the Goat-Man" brought to life by performance storyteller Jay Leeming. www.JayLeeming.com
O wild man O wild woman www.JayLeeming.com
A story is something which is not true that happens all the time. www.JayLeeming.com
Creosote, flouride, and a half a teaspoon of potassium nitrate. www.JayLeeming.com
Open mouth story jump out. www.JayLeeming.com
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though. He will not see me stopping here to watch his woods fill up with snow.
The lid to the forest is a green door the one you go through when you step onto the path the one you hear slam behind you when the dark enters into your bones the stars are very quiet there and hotter than anything you've felt before when you lie down little animals come to give you a new name you won't remember it later but it will change how you walk to your car in the morning with your jangly keys in your hand trying not to be late.
The furry brown leaves aren't leaves at all but something else, animals from the understory working to a set of instructions known to no human though Leonardo Da Vinci did manage to glimpse them briefly. He tried to write about what he saw, to paint it, to get it into some fixed form but it just wriggled away. And then outside the water-seller started up with his salty and disastrously memorable song.
What happens in the silence stays in the silence. The lady with the sword sleeps under the water. A hedgehog ambles towards a stream, a cloud contemplates the songs of the lemon trees. Somewhere in the desert a lost pocketwatch begins to rust.
Does science kill what it loves? Does the biologist ask the sparrow's permission before placing a microchip on its shoulder? What world is this we live in?
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