Invite me, please. I am a poet—a free-spirit who will occasionally be so caught up in my own words that I’ll overlook some new ones like Ello.
Today on my friend’s Facebook thread, she asked us if we wanted to be invited to Ello but I skimmed over the post, imagining that you were an upscale clothing line or maybe a music platform. Ah, Ello, now I get it—and I dig it! I’ve opened your pages and I see the light.
You are an ‘Ello of good cheer and clarity in this era of digital manipulation (as for the ‘ello, I should have known after spending many days and nights with an English-Italian).
Now dear Ello, I am blushing as I ask for an invite but I am also confident that you’ll say yes. After all, I am the (w)right woman to be one of your invitees—not only do I share words with grace but I am the experimental type—open to the bumps that come in creativity, knowing they are the promise of prosperity.
Sweet, sweet Ello, I love the excitement of something new like flying a plane or spelunking into caverns. I love revolutionary ideas that burn into action.
Although waiting for an invite I must admit that I feel a little like the unpopular girl sitting at a lunch table all by herself but I’m fine with that.
I’ve always been the artisty type never big on bending myself into contours of normal so that’s why I ask to be invited.
Ello is revolutionary in action.
I know. I know. Your space is limited and you’re testing your wings, your seats are full as you take flight. I’m an excellent co-pilot, I rarely get lost and if I do, then I’ll crack a joke while admitting defeat, asking for guidance. Oh, Ello, go for it. Take the risk, and invite me, please.
And, I’ll bring a six-pack of northern California’s finest ale.
Love elephant and want to go steady?
Editor: Ashleigh Hitchcock