182 posts
Latest Posts by my-dearest-giulia - Page 2
Can any of us really claim to be happy if we haven’t danced in the rain? Held hands with the moon? Had poetry carved to our name? Had our favorite book annotated and presented as a token of full fledged alliance?
Obsessed with the idea of sacrifice in a book being a selfish act rather than a selfless one. Their lover screaming at them: “How dare you leave me in this barren world? How dare you take away my choice to die for you and leave me with this grief?”. They are dead, and their lover is left - a gaping wound - bleeding into the ground. Do they love them so much that they would die for them, or do they love them so much that they forced the other to live without them? Sacrifice as a bitter act. Sacrifice as something wildly violent; something tormentingly cruel — but always, always built on love. Perhaps, they are both martyrs in the end.
“𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵, 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴?”
-𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘰𝘸𝘴𝘬𝘪
ACHILLES AND THE LONDON BOY:
ArtBreeder Photo Board
Alexander FitzDonald
Theo Fraser
Diana Mayor
THE ARCHIVES
Prose and Poems:
Poems
A Poem About Rain
Icarus Also Flew
An Ode to Rays of Sun
To learn that
Jealousy
Eyes
Women
A Pretty Little Message to Myself
She
An Ode to Pools of Moonlight
A Poem of Many Poems
If I Don’t Love You
Achilles and the London Boy
Sunlit Gold
A Flower-Scented Morning
Hungover on Tears
A Magnolia Tree Kiss
“What is happiness?”
Giulia’s New Book
Meeting Diana
Giulia’s Diary:
Personal
Giulia Has a Crush
Linguistics, My Beloved
Last Book That I…
Flowers and Vanilla and Sunlight
Mornings
Goodbye, Achilles and the London Boy :(
Book-Related
Sense and Sensibility
Butterfly Bookmark
Emma
History Class Advice
Giulia’s Predictions 1
Giulia’s Predictions 2
The Secret History
Camilla Macaulay
Odds and Ends:
Quotes
A Book I’ll Never Write
To define is to limit, darling.
Books and Forests
The Secret History
“Goodness, you magpies.”
“It’s nothing.”
Everything was bathed in celestial light.
“But how,” said Charles…
That was a cozy night, a happy night…
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
My heartbeat trembled in my fingertips…
The wind was up…
Shades of Eton
Unworldly airs of ancient romance that…
The Iliad
Anguish gripped Achilles…
Other
I Loved My Friend
It isn’t Spring until…
Vive vita tua, nam morte tua morieris.
Photos
Books and Tea
Notes Scrawled in Margins
Tweed Blazer Outfit
Books and Flowers
Academy on the Hill
Home Screen
Italian Dialects Alignment Chart
Good Morning, May
The Secret History
Giulia on Pinterest
Pink Flower
Joseph Leyendecker Illustration
Joseph Leyendecker Illustration II
Photo Boards
Achilles and the London Boy
First Photo Board
First Photo Board, Labeled
ArtBreeder Photo Board
We can talk it so good we can make it so divine
ACHILLES AND THE LONDON BOY:
Photo Board
Center: James Leicester
Left: Diana Mayor
Center: Henrik Olsen
Left: Theo Fraser, Center: Alexander FitzDonald
Center: Alexander FitzDonald
Left: Theo Fraser, Right: Alexander FitzDonald
Left: James Leicester, Left Center: Henrik Olsen, Right Center: Theo Fraser, Right: Alexander FitzDonald
Back: Diana Mayor, Front: Alexander FitzDonald
Left: Alexander FitzDonald, Center: Theo Fraser, Right: Diana Mayor
Left: Alexander FitzDonald, Center: Diana Mayor, Left: Theo Fraser
“Vive vitam tuam, nam morte tua morieris.”
Live your own life, for you will die your own death.
“Wisdom is not a product of schooling but of the lifelong attempt to acquire it.” – Albert Einstein
One of my absolute favorite exchanges in the entirety of The Secret History
Hi! I'm going to be in London visiting family at the end of June for a week and was wondering if you had any cool recommendations (museums, bookstores, etc.) I've already seen all the main parts of London like Buckingham Palace and Big Ben and the London Eye, but I want to see if I can find any cool hidden gems :)
hi, hello, hi -- london is soooo massive there's no end to the things to see... these aren't hidden gems but they're a bit different from central, the west end and all that, a bit more like places where people who live in london go
columbia road flower market
broadway market
brick lane
peckham rye lane
brixton village
borough market
galleries
peer
maureen paley
whitechapel gallery
raven row
south london gallery
across these spots you will find fab cafes, food and bookshops like brick lane books, libreria books, books peckham, bookmongers, round table books and so on.
Foxglove Perimeter
I believe that a morning should never describe a day. Of course, I don’t believe mornings listen to mortal pleas and reasoning, but I try to enact this rule myself. Yet, it is a morning’s nature to bleed into your perception of a day, tint it with sorrow or with beauty. The only times when I forbid myself from enforcing this rule is when my day is unknowingly stricken with a morning of perfect quiescence, an awake before the world has begun to turn. Those rare mornings can feel free to pour through the seams of time and stain the parchment of afternoons and evenings a beautiful shade of rose. I’m quite a hypocrite, I do know.
Rain pounded on the roof of the car, plunking out a melody.
“What do you think happiness is?” Theo often asked these unexpected questions, so Alexander wasn’t so very surprised.
“Not crying myself to sleep every night,” the words had slipped out of his mouth as he read his book in an uninterested tone. Now he looked at Theo, weighing his reaction. Theo’s face had a puzzled, maybe worried, expression on it.
“Hm.” He didn’t say anything more. Alexander wouldn’t admit that he’d hoped Theo would. Alexander didn’t know it, but that scene near the brook at midnight all those months ago was playing through his head again. After a bit, Theo continued.
“Are you happy?”
“I don’t know,” Alexander said, looking at the rain crashing down on the window. The melancholy that came every night and used to make him cry in Autumn now only resided in his mind as a dull numbness that visited before he went to bed each evening, but it was there, even still. Theo did not enquire further this time, and the two returned to reading their books, Alexander consumed in a secondhand copy of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall and Theo skimming through a book of Sappho’s poems.
Why are all the best things I write just flowers and vanilla and sunlight? Honestly, I’ve detected a distinct theme. I’m not sure if I’m complaining. I do like flowers and vanilla and sunlight, and I do enjoy writing different types of light, especially that honey-gold, early-morning sunlight. I just wish I could be that good at writing anything else.
The sound was muffled; all he could see was Theo’s gorgeous eyes, looking down at his sketch. He leaned closer to see what he was drawing, placing his face closer to Theo’s. Theo smiled over yet another drawing of Alexander. Alexander looked back up at his eyes, and Theo couldn’t pretend not to notice him this time. Alexander’s face was angled in such a way that he was looking up at Theo, quite a rare occurrence. Theo looked straight into those emerald eyes that stared into his. Alexander moved so that his head rested in Theo’s lap and his legs dangled down the hill. His eyes glanced down at Theo’s lips.
Without thinking, Theo pulled his lips up to meet his, a perfect moment, a perfect moment. Warmth spread through Alexander as if he were drinking a scalding cup of hot chocolate in bed on a cold night, the warmth burning the back of his throat and spreading through his body. His hand reached up behind Theo’s head, clutching onto his tawny curls. He didn’t want this moment to end; he couldn’t let it. His mouth did not leave Theo’s, his fingers intertwined in Theo’s hair. He could feel Theo’s hand move down to his back. Their lips parted, a too-long goodbye. Theo looked at him, some sort of expression on his face, not exactly a smile. Alexander shared it. Alexander closed his eyes as Theo sprinkled magnolia leaves on his face, laughing. He knew this moment was never meant to last.