Whenever I imagine the language of the wind, I think of all the places it’s curves must have been. Whether an ally or forest, it doesn’t pay much mind for a valley or a skyscraper suits its purpose just fine. It knows how to dance through the lows and the highs. I hope that it’s fluency decides to stop by.
She was fleeting like a memory and I held her hazy remembrance close to my chest. Her playful spirit is caged beneath her upright exterior. The one she wears to impress and command. The one that first caught my eye. The lady hiding a sinful gaze under sea foam blazer. She walks a path no other could, with grace no other could, holding the world in her eye the way no other could. I played her fresh melody over and over in my ear. Nostalgia creeping over me for a woman I had yet to know. Her addictive lilt sang me to sleep and visions of her painted my sky in black, white, and every shade of grey. In a world full of color, she was all and none of it. She exists as the eye of the storm.
“He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.” - Anna Karenina, Tolstoy
Oh my dearly beloved, do not speak to me on behalf of your righteousness when I can hear your hearts quickened fever. How can you rather travel the path you made then adventure down the greener one set before you. Your pride may be admirable but incessant all the same. So when I come to you, my king, bearing nothing but my bones and flesh at will, seeing you fall to your knees and join me, just to turn your cheek all the same, I can not help but feel scathed. So I leave you to ponder at this, who is really the brave man? The one who sticks to his will or the one who follows his heart. You are my sacred savior and by your lips I read the scripture and Any sin by us is holy.
For women fear too much, even as they love,
And women’s fear and love hold quantity,
In neither aught, or in extremity.
Now what my love is, proof hath made you know,
And as my love is sized, my fear is so:
Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear.
Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.
Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 2
"Your face, my thane, is as a book where men
May read strange matters. To beguile the time,
Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,
Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under 't."
- William Shakespeare, Macbeth
“These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
Which as they kiss consume. The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness
And in the taste confounds the appetite.
Therefore love moderately; long love doth so;
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.”
Friar Laurence Act 2, scene 6 of Romeo and Juliet
try to resist a temptation to express feelings of passion or to over share compassion in an unattractive fashion unlike dior or a ripe pear
So i will appease our silent agreement with subtle degrees of disagreement 🤍
