# 27 || comme des diamants dans le ciel *~*~*

Do you ever hear the colours in certain songs? Bon Iver is a comforting kind of blue-grey and I think anything by Fleet Foxes is a forest green and that shade of brown that doesn't bring you down-the-rabbit-hole. Lately I like songs that elucidate midnight blue, like Ane Brun's These Days and anything by James Blake. When things get really sad I need Balam Acab (Welcome will change everything !), Múm, Real Estate, or anything that can both cause and curb a potent pang of nostalgia to reverberate through my body. 

I dream of a trip away from this ( e t e r n a l ) existential crisis. Recently, the ghosts seem so awake and sorrow is strong without a source. Sometimes lonely is an understatement, and sometimes it's a selfish thing to say. When your (freight)train-of-thought offers infinite opinions, you forget which one really belonged to you. My curiosity seems both a brilliance and a burden, when right is wrong and somehow I seem to know best when I don't know anything at all.

Dreams cannot be perpetual, because the permanence we crave will only transpire through movement and erraticism. You're always where you need to be, and every second, every suffering, and every stumble of every day attributes to the incredible being that you are. Do you take risks? The kind that nobody notices or cares about and probably won't even make a good story afterwards. Until now. Because at this precise moment I want to emphasis the significance of the smallest things and the foundations of a thought. I believe good intentions are the most important thing, and are the catalyst for "success" (for lack of a more appropriate, less silly word) - regardless of how wretched it all may seem.

Let the sky-blue, rose-gold, pure-white hope bloom inside your soul and you'll see the meaning in what seems meaningless. Floating is just the preliminary before you fly, before you soar. There's much merit in the movement of drifting, of wandering, of learning, of trying, of seeing ---- imagine the magnitude of your story when you take a step sideways and see what magic you have made.

( With love, A. x )