You Have A Place In My Heart No One Else Ever Could Have 🍃

when remco campert said "poetry is an act of affirmation. i affirm that i live, that i do not live alone."

I’m not sure if I’m going to continue working on Achilles and the London Boy.

I’m not sure where the plot is going, and I don’t think my characters are really thought-out, so I think I’ll scrap the project. But, I’ve really enjoyed working on it, and I think that a lot of the scenes have promise on their own. Well, I just wanted to let you all know.

Alexander’s golden hair shone in the glass sunlight, a moment so perfect it seemed it could fracture at the smallest breath. His eyes looked like green crystals, flicks of blue emerging in the sun.

Alexander didn’t notice this, but Theo did, gazing up at the window. He looked back down at his tattered copy of the Iliad, wondering what book Alexander was reading. The sun was setting, making the world look like a haze of pink and purple. Theo looked at the cotton candy clouds, unaware that Alexander was looking right down at him, sitting on the bench next to the road. Alexander closed his book, Jane Austen’s Emma, and smiled a little half-smile, looking at the way the orange sky reflected off of Theo’s eyes. Those eyes flicked to his, Alexander turning away a few seconds too late, the grin disappearing from his face. Theo’s smile, on the other hand, only widened. Alexander chided himself for his incompetence and looked over at the door of his room, still seeing those gilded curls. He blinked quickly, trying to get them out of his vision. He looked back down at the sidewalk; the boy had gone from the wooden bench. He forced himself to look back at his book.

Still Life with Books, Jan Davidsz. de Heem, 1625 - 1630 (detail)

You’re just lovely

Awww, thank you!! Love from Italy!!!

Yours,

Giulia :)

current favourite words:

• esoteric: likely to be understood or enjoyed by only a few people with a special knowledge or interest

• hubris (greek tragedy): excessive pride towards or defiance of the gods, leading to nemesis

• trepidation: great worry or fear about something unpleasant that may happen

• hedonistic: based on the belief that pleasure is the most important thing in life

• decadence: moral or cultural decline as characterized by excessive indulgence in pleasure or luxury

• writhe: respond with great emotional or physical discomfort to (a violent or unpleasant feeling or thought)

• acerbic: (of a person or what they say) critical in a direct and rather cruel way

• sanguine: blood red

I've just learned that some (if not most) people have an internal narrative of their thoughts – almost all of their thoughts are in sentences that they 'hear'

as opposed to other people, like me, who have predominantly abstract non-verbal thoughts. Yes, i can talk to myself in my head if i want, and i often hear a voice when i read (until i get really into the story, at which point the voice disappears), but 99% of my thoughts are completely non-verbal. Like, i'm thinking a million things all the time, but there just aren't words attached to them.

I'm so intrigued by this. Is it always in full sentences? Is it all the time? How do you think two things at once - do the voices overlap, or do you just wait to finish that thought before moving onto the next? i have so much abstract chaos going on in my head at all times, i really couldn't imagine how it could possibly be funnelled into linear sentences???? does it affect how you process things?

my mind has been blown

I haven’t finished Emma yet, but I have a theory. I’ve had this theory ever since we first saw Emma, Harriet, and Mr. Elton in a room together, but I’m just sharing it now. I think Mr. Elton might like Emma and not Harriet? No, I’m nearly positive. I guess we’ll see?

This very morning, my history professor picked up the book I was reading, looked me in the eye, and said “Don’t read Wuthering Heights.” He then proceeded to walk away and continue class.

I've been thinking about this for weeks:

Gorgeous by Taylor Swift, but it's Neil Perry when meeting one Todd Anderson, because, goddamn, how can someone be that damn pretty. it shouldn't be allowed.

at first he thinks it's envy. it must be.

todd anderson, gorgeous, gorgeous, todd anderson, who is not only beautiful, but so talented, and poetic, and somehow he manages to make tripping over a stair look graceful !

but then, if it truly is envy, why does he love it ?

why does he love the shine in his eyes, and the peeking prose that hides under his lips ?

he's furious. todd anderson is so gorgeous it hurts, and he can't take it. he loves it. he can't breathe. he's never felt this nervous in his life before.

and who knows, if he actually is just painfully in love with those ocean blue eyes looking in his, that's nobody's business but his own. and maybe todd's. with his stupid, gorgeous face.