I’m Ashley, self-made scribe and nomadic wanderer through Neverland. I’ve been spinning tales ever since I first laid hands on a dollhouse. Over time I tossed aside the Ken doll for encyclopedias and grew into my own Katniss of homegrown journalism, shooting arrows dipped in sleep deprivation at targets made of paper. I was my own cherub chilling in the exosphere, head in the sky, soul in the stars, every story sanctioned by an audience of silver-lined clouds.
I loved fairy tales like a foodie loves tacos, and it morphed into a hobby that blossomed in my teens and followed me into my twenties. During my daydream-drenched free time, I’ve worked on the compilation of over a dozen chronicles of poetry. Late-night brainstorming sessions reveal worlds of dizzying white, pages ripe with verse that glitter like snowy mountain peaks–one sip of syntax and I’m skylarking through ecstasy. I’ve spent hours reveling in Dickinson and her delicious dashes, in Vonnegut and his dystopian inventions, and in Muir and his naturopathic knowing, pouring most of my life into the pursuit of English and its exotic powers of passion and persuasion.
I am mesmerized by the gravity of ephemera, hooked to the tangy flavor of stardust and addicted to taking the risk that life might be gorgeous behind the world’s nightmarish grimace and it’s more Renaissance than French Revolution. Smiles outnumber shadows, and small talk might someday touch shoulders with psychic ascension. It could be true… all of it.
One kiss of fantasy, one kick of flight, and it could be fluttering in your palm like a butterfly.
This blog is the atlas of epics, emerging from eons of time spent deep in thought, all the way from my early teens to today’s wild twenties. Though my time is now tethered to more tangible worlds, moonlit strolls through the labyrinth of language still remain my preferred method of travel.