Saturday, January 20, 2007
meditations
the vagaries of love, and her incarnations thereof, are myriad; as bold as death, terrible as beauty, and dark as despair. love hides in the tilt of a head, the hollow of a shoulder, the flicker of smiling eyes and jealous fists; she speaks through the sullen spaces between words, and silences across telephone lines. her fingers are the misplaced, fleeting scents of ex-lovers. she is the breath shared before a kiss, and the sudden shudder of closing eyes. she is intangible, incomprehensible; she lives somewhere between the incoherence of poets and the clear gloaming of a morning shared between sleepless lovers.
+ fictions&fires
6:19 PM
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plangere, latin: to strike, or to lament.
in the depth of winter i finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.
--albert camus
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to be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best night and day to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle any human being can fight and never stop fighting.
-- ee cummings
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