I’ve been thinking a lot lately about love, and what it means in our lives. Not as romantic partnership, but … More
May you be wrapped in tenderness, you my brother, as if in a cloak. – The Koran
Loving is no delusion; it is an artistic creation.
– Frank Andrews, The Art and Practice of Loving
I want to talk about female rage yes rage female not theoretically no not feminist rage no female rage in … More
Maybe I could never understand the way you love how your heart enclosed after her deceit left only a margin … More
I stumbled through the streets where urine and flowers melt in odour quite like ourselves the eyeliner smirring into eyeshadow … More
He was watching a magnificently clear starry sky, in the pitch dark of a hill at the end of the … More
And if I unravel spread my wings like petals of a tangled rose you may say I’m acting heading for … More
I don’t want to follow you blindly follow my path with eyes wide shut as if it was only a … More
Loneliness never felt to me like something experienced at certain moments of aloneness or crowdedness, no matter, it is fundamentally … More
I’m done, I’m over responding with hatred and anger and scorn and fear and cynicism, I’m just done. I choose love, even when that means silence, even when that doesn’t necessarily mean hope.
Because it might be just as inspiring to look back to your used-to-be wish list than it is to always … More
you’ve just had your heart broken in Paris.
it’s a pretty nice place to have your heart broken in, don’t you think?
It’s through them you realize someone’s place in your life, their soul as they say and what this soul can do to you. There’s the beauty and the terror.
There’s a grief and a recovery.
I’m afraid of the threat just as much as I am of our response to it.
In every detailed wrinkle the rose wears proudly and beautifully she can see there are lessons and experiences that never die inside of us.
There is power, even more importantly there is humanity in embracing fragility and it is there we can sincerely approach and trust others.
”Make love. Make art. ” ☮ Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris. Ça marche / pas ?
For if the sense of myself being alive is not about the travels, adventures and experiencing the world in its fullness, what is then?