1.0PoohsDenhttps://www.ourowncorner.com/poohsdenVinithahttps://www.ourowncorner.com/poohsden/author/pooh_admin/rich600338<blockquote class="wp-embedded-content" data-secret="PSJBukiL3H"><a href="https://www.ourowncorner.com/poohsden/l-layers/">L: Layers</a></blockquote><iframe sandbox="allow-scripts" security="restricted" src="https://www.ourowncorner.com/poohsden/l-layers/embed/#?secret=PSJBukiL3H" width="600" height="338" title="“L: Layers” — PoohsDen" data-secret="PSJBukiL3H" frameborder="0" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" scrolling="no" class="wp-embedded-content"></iframe><script type="text/javascript"> /* <![CDATA[ */ /*! This file is auto-generated */ !function(d,l){"use strict";l.querySelector&&d.addEventListener&&"undefined"!=typeof URL&&(d.wp=d.wp||{},d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage||(d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage=function(e){var t=e.data;if((t||t.secret||t.message||t.value)&&!/[^a-zA-Z0-9]/.test(t.secret)){for(var s,r,n,a=l.querySelectorAll('iframe[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),o=l.querySelectorAll('blockquote[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),c=new RegExp("^https?:$","i"),i=0;i<o.length;i++)o[i].style.display="none";for(i=0;i<a.length;i++)s=a[i],e.source===s.contentWindow&&(s.removeAttribute("style"),"height"===t.message?(1e3<(r=parseInt(t.value,10))?r=1e3:~~r<200&&(r=200),s.height=r):"link"===t.message&&(r=new URL(s.getAttribute("src")),n=new URL(t.value),c.test(n.protocol))&&n.host===r.host&&l.activeElement===s&&(d.top.location.href=t.value))}},d.addEventListener("message",d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage,!1),l.addEventListener("DOMContentLoaded",function(){for(var e,t,s=l.querySelectorAll("iframe.wp-embedded-content"),r=0;r<s.length;r++)(t=(e=s[r]).getAttribute("data-secret"))||(t=Math.random().toString(36).substring(2,12),e.src+="#?secret="+t,e.setAttribute("data-secret",t)),e.contentWindow.postMessage({message:"ready",secret:t},"*")},!1)))}(window,document); //# sourceURL=https://www.ourowncorner.com/poohsden/wp-includes/js/wp-embed.min.js /* ]]> */ </script> She woke up thinking about layers. Sheet after sheet of varying thickness coating and covering and hiding. She woke up. Layers. Her mind was filled with layers. Layers of dust that coating the books that lay untouched in the library her parents had collected. First editions and author signed copies. Rare manuscripts. Preserved, cataloged and saved. Layers of dust that seemed to have accumulated in every surface at home when she opened it yesterday after months of neglecting it. She thought about layered desserts. She woke up with an urge to create. To create layered desserts. Not one or two. Multiples of them. To create and get her hands covered with flour and sugar. To let the smell of vanilla and cinnamon infiltrate through the layers of the house. The manor. The mausoleum. Smelling of dust, rotting flowers and memories. “Layered desserts it is” she declared pulling herself out of layers of sheets and blankets. She stretched her legs and wondering what to create. She spoke out aloud to the emptiness in front of her as she went through the routines of the morning. “Tiramisu maybe? Layers of ladyfingers dipped in strong espresso and a hint of coffee liqueur, egg […]http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V6oZf-3F36g/UuZ5yWIMvEI/AAAAAAAAL70/LMpmJPm0BbQ/s1600/L.jpg