Thanks to the power of the mighty cinderblock new structures are being formed out back.
The floor was poured. Lines carved in the concrete just like my sketch. A smattering of tiles inserted into the corners. Giant toilet paper rolls were carefully placed to form planting holes.
Firebricks were put on the back wall of the fire hearth. I always imagined a permanent campfire in my backyard. You know. For sending smoke signals.
I visited other friend's houses to steal more ideas.
Ricardo has pergola fever. He built this one at his house and he's going to build one for me!
He also makes furniture. But I didn't want to push my luck. While I was there my eyes kept returning again and again to this smooth stucco.
I'll have that kind please.
There was a Spring art show in the courtyard at school on Friday. All of the little punks were jumping with excitement. After lunch I read a chapter from our new book.
If you is really wanting to
know what I am doing in your village, I is blowing a
dream into the bedroom of those children.
Blowing a dream?
What do you mean?
I is a dream-blowing giant.
When all the other giants is galloping off to swollop
human beans, I is scuddling away to blow dreams into the bedrooms of
sleeping children. Nice
dreams. Lovely golden dreams. Dreams that is giving the dreamers a
hang on a minute. Where do you get these
I collect them.
The BFG waved an arm
at all the rows and rows of bottles on the shelves.
I has billions of
You can’t collect a
dream. A dream isn’t something you can
catch hold of.
is never going to understand about it. That is why is
not wishing to tell you.
Imagine 23 little squirmy people slowly turning their faces up as the story unwinds, bodies settling, the room growing quiet quiet quiet. Oh magic, I know your name.