Right now, it is storming outside - the rain has begun to pelt the windows and the thunder is growing loud. I love these kinds of storms, it is very similar to the one that came the night before I met you. The lightening is not as strong this time though. When I was a little girl my grandparents in Thailand had a house over water on their farm (they were very poor). In the summer time, we would go visit and it would often storm violently towards the evening. I would bring the mosquito net over myself and sit by the open door, with my legs draped down the side, dangling toward the water so the rain could hit. As my legs would sway back and forth, I would simply stare at the sky and the spectacular lightshow as thunder clapped and monkeys screeched in the background - water pouring down my calves, magnetically racing towards the pond below. Half an hour later, the show would end, and I would be left, utterly mesmerized by the power, force and beauty of nature. I love a good storm.
xo
-j
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Your face is neither infinite nor ephemeral.
You can never see your own face,
only a reflection, not the face itself.
So you sigh in front of mirrors
and cloud the surface.
It's better to keep your breath cold.
Hold it, like a diver does in the ocean.
One slight movement, the mirror-image goes.
Don't be dead or asleep or awake.
Don't be anything.
What you most want,
what you travel around wishing to find,
lose yourself as lovers lose themselves,
and you'll be that.
- Farid al-Din Attar
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in loneliness
a leaf danced
till the last moment
- e e cummings
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l(a
le
af
fa
ll
s)
one
l
iness
e e cummings
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