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Showing posts from May, 2009

Witch of Portobello

No one sacrifices the most important thing she possesses: Love. No one places her dreams in the hands of those who might destroy them. I applauded when reason lost the battle and all I could do was surrender and accept that I was in love. If there is any possible consolation in the tragedy of losing someone we love very much, it's necessary hope that perhaps it was for the best. No one can manipulate anyone else. In any relationship, both parties know what they're doing, even if one of them complains later on that they were used. Having little to lose or to hope for in life took greater risks than other people and ended up being transformed into the forces she thought she mastered. And the best way to know who we are is often to find out how others see us. This doesn't mean that we should do what others expect us to do, but it helps us to understand ourselves better. Life, however, had other plans--when fate is very generous with us, there is always a well into which all ou

Memories of My Melancholy Whores

Inspiration gives no warnings. What isn't natural is (my) age. No old man forgets where he has hidden his treasure. Let no one be deceived, no, thinking that what he awaits will last longer than what he has seen. I discovered improbable pleasure of contemplating the body of a sleeping woman without the urgencies of desire or the obstacles of modesty. A body as provocative with clothes as without Age isn't how old you are but how old you feel. In the end, it is impossible not to become what others believe you are.