Untitled

But still a title.

Dear World, what have you been up to?

In my little corner of the universe, so much is changing and so quickly that I almost wish I could dig my toes into the riverbed and hold out my arms like a human breakwater. That a new year is starting seems surreal, and though I’ve been pining for change for months now, the realisation that those inchoate longings are fast becoming a reality nearly paralyses me with apprehension.

We are all growing up, too quickly. Where will we be when we have moved away, perhaps even to separate countries? Life is cruel to the sentimental. I remember when I first began to comprehend the fleeting quality of human existence- I was about 4 or 5 and my parents had just left for a much needed vacation together. Missing them, I climbed onto their bed and stared at a set of photographs resting on the headboard. All of a sudden, a my young morbid mind was beseiged by a relentless tirade of images of a life without them. That, compounded with the fact that it was an imminently possible scenario was all too much. I bawled for two hours straight, much to the chagrin of all around I am sure.

Sometimes, incomprehensible fears such as the sudden loss of loved ones, whether separated by distance or death, that sadly unbridgeable gulf, can lay a quick cold hand upon my heart. In such moments what can I do then but scramble to gain my footing again, on the solid and unchanging rock of faith. And the hope that we will one day meet in a place where love runs deep and distance and death have no more hold on us.

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Where can I flee from your presence?

23 Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.

24 See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.

Psalm 139 – my favourite psalm. =)

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Too much Edith Wharton

me: I am greatly perplexed as to the location of this pen…

tim: (pointing) neh!

oh, right.

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You & I

we’re like two pebbles, smoothed by the sea and each other.

i don’t know why anyone would think otherwise.

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Luisa

When I read about the Marchesa Luisa Casati, the eccentric Italian socialite whose life and legacy are the inspiration for Georgina Chapman’s line “Marchesa”, I went absolutely nuts for her. Here was a woman who took her life’s motto very seriously indeed – I want to be a living work of art, said she and so she was. She wore couture everywhere, even when walking her greyhounds and dalmatians; she commissioned paintings and sculptures to ensure her immortality… even when the money ran dry, she was rumoured to be seen rummaging through rubbish bins in the streets of London, looking for feathers to decorate her hair.

My favourite part is the inscription on her gravestone in Brompton Cemetery (which I must visit one day) it reads:

“Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety”

from Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra

One of my friends summed her up quite nicely – Carrie Bradshaw on speed.

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two to love

It was hard to say when exactly winter arrived. The decline was gradual, like that of a person into old age, inconspicuous from day to day until the season became an established relentless reality. First came a dip in evening temperatures, then days of continuous rain, confused gusts of Atlantic wind, dampness, the fall of leaves and the changing of the clocks – though there were still occasional moments of reprieve, mornings when one could leave the house without a coat and the sky was cloudles and bright. But they were like false signs of recovery in a patient upon whom death has passed its sentence. By December, the new season was entrenched and the city was covered almost every day by an ominous steely-grey sky, like one in a painting by Mantegna or Veronese, the perfect backdrop to the crucifixtion of Christ or to a day beneath the bedclothes.

- The Art of Travel, Alain de Botton

She also posed in attitudes, holding things. Pre-Raphaelite, she combed out her long, black hair to stream straight down from a centre parting and thoughtfully regarded herself as she held a tiger-lily from the garden under her chin, her knees pressed close together. A la Toulouse-Lautrec, she dragged her hair sluttishly across her face and sat down on a chair with her legs apart and a bowl of water and a towel at her feet…

- The Magic Toyshop, Angela Carter

I don’t fall in love easily, but when I do, I fall hard. Seek these two out.

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Again and again and again and again

“How kind of you to let me come.” – Audrey Hepburn as Eliza Doolittle

Remember – Always be a lady.

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