I Speak Respected Mârbingwë

Look at the strangest thing I found in one of my journals last night. I was searching for some random poetry notes and came upon this. For the life of me I have no idea. It is certainly my messy handwriting scribbled down in a hurry, but I cannot recall writing such an obscurity. It’s like I was channelling someone from another time, or another planet. Perhaps it was a dream?

On the opposite page is a drawing by an ex-boyfriend. I hope it is not supposed to be me, because honestly, my nose doesn’t look like that at all. 

Maybe Anghârad was a figment of his imagination and I was taking dictation, but that doesn’t seem likely either. He was not so fanciful – nor I his secretary, may I add.

And I find it slightly annoying there is no full stop after Ceir. It seems as though I had intended to write more. It’s like a fragment of Sappho’s poetry, tantalising me. And ‘gold is the currency of your mind’ – what does that even mean? Still, it would make a great opening first page of a novel.

She must remain a mystery.

Anghârad writes about speaking another language starting with M. Mârbingwë? I speak respected Mârbingwë.

I could see only the first three words on the page, the light was so bright. They said I am writing. I will say nothing until the gold is on the table. What gold? What am I buying?

Her story. The gold is the currency of your mind.

She is from Ceir …