.I.
Some things are too beautiful to recount with mere words, and I'll admit that, because I love words more than fresh croissants and caramelised pear tea served boiling hot. Black letters on a blanc backdrop makes my mouth water, truly. Words with e and a nestled up together (d r ea m , l ea f, s ea, cr ea ture, t ea, f ea r, cr ea te), sentences strung together with salty emotion and paragraphs that take you places you couldn't possibly have imagined ever existed. But really, how do I tell you about the magic? The freedom? The ease? The love? Rosé by the water, we are mermaids. Non, I that's not true. We're a duck and a whale who share with each other the best of both worlds, stories of the sea and the shore. I write because I want to enlighten and be enlightened, I want to remember and forget, I want to savour both the sweet and the sour memories. Here the clouds tell stories, "that-summer-feeling", 5 supermarkets later we found film to remember one of the prettiest days I've ever seen, "home-is-whenever-I'm-with-you", a 2.a.m ice-cream interlude, I never knew my heart could feel that full, and not explode into a billion shards of glitter.
.II.
Coat your
heart in your favourite colour to send away the sorrow when it comes
a'knocking. (night)Dreams are just dreams, and sadness, like jet-lag is
just a figment of your imagination. I don't believe we're here to
suffer, the notion is beyond balmy to me. I think melancholia is just a
test to see how we rise to the occasion. You know, I'll be wearing my
favourite dress, with flowers tangled in my tresses. Freedom comes from
the inside, it starts in your tummy and emits from your eyes in
lightform -- twinkles and stars. Corny perhaps ... still, one day you'll feel it like
the wind in your hair but it's now sweeping through your body.
I want reality, I want to be enraptured all the time.
Is that a bad thing?
Will I lose the balance & perspective that I cherish with all my heart?
I want to live in a world where every person is a romantic -
where impossible is nothing
and there is always here.
Where people dare to dream
and see the light outside their window on a grey morning.
I'm really happy. Pas toujours, but for the most part. And it's the pure kind of ecstasy, the golden kind, the strong, billiant, shimmery stuff. Make the magic you want to see in the world and everything could be as perfect as you can imagine it. Stop and scrutinise --- I'm sure you're living in at least a fragment of a dream.
.III.
