Lacexleaves - New Beginnings

my five year plan? read a lot of books. visit museums. walk through woods. stand in a river. adopt a little kitty. drink lemonade while sitting in a rocking chair on my porch.

A shade of green, the colour of a mid-July swimming pool by the sea at sunset, the colour of lush forests, soothing, comforting, yet so intense a shadow just beneath the surface, lurking fleetingly by the corners, somehow synonymous with the gradual lavender that covers the sky at dawn.

Frosted glass between rain and life

I run my hand through the same old withered branches,

Drenched in the same old tired rain,

Far away the sunset harbours the lost gold of

Odysseys gone by, and if the wind were to hide

Within it some unremembered glow from the land

Of unknown secrets, the evening will gently

Whisk away the covers of the coquette,

And reveal to us a maiden under the bent willow,

Sweet as the apples from the orchards where our dreams

Were buried. She will beckon for the children

To gather around the fire and tell them the story

Of Zerah and Zulamith, whilst we twist the

Slender branches of the cherry tree into a throne

Fit for the brides of heaven to recline on,

Place at the altar a wreath of dead roses,

And hope that the silent fragrance borne to the shore

Is enough for the sea to give up the child

She drew to her heart in death’s storm.

…

And dare I tag anyone? @pollosky-in-blue perhaps you’ll like the story?

while reading virginia woolf in class, my university professor mentioned how most victorian women often wrote about going to the sea and one of the most common theories behind it was that the sea symbolises a mother's womb and hence, their desire to crawl back into it. i wonder why, even to this day, we all find a sense of solitude by the sea, almost as if the world around us doesn't exist.

White roses, it has always been white roses, with their inscrutable faces and slender thorns, the grotesque so beautifully encompassed in the lovely.

the song of achilles, madeline miller // 1 samuel 18:1, kjv translation of the bible // wuthering heights, emily brontë // memory, @aristosmusical // sonnet xvii, pablo neruda // [i carry your heart with me(i carry it in], e.e. cummings // “the origin of love”, hedwig and the angry inch // star trek iii: the search for spock, dir. leonard nimoy

do you ever get that really hollow feeling when you show someone something you like and they don’t necessarily appreciate or like it that much and it’s like you’ve just revealed the secret to retrieve the library of Alexandria to a hunchbacked old woman from the Victorian era who doesn’t know how to read?

today has been very pleasant