So today I finished “The Sense of An Ending” by Julian Barnes. I suggest you read it, it struck me on an introspective level rather than emotional.
But now, instead of taking a breather to catch up on lost work I’ve started on the endeavor that is “The Fault in Our Stars” by John Green. I’m in chapter four and it reads like bad fan fiction? Maybe it’s just comparative, I don’t know. My sister says it gets better, and generally I trust her opinion. Here’s to that, then.
Winter sunlight casts your skin in blue
Your straight brown eyelashes lining
your closed lids
Spectacles thickening the view
Like a camera’s lens
That traps and widens the light
in the thick glass
While my china hands travel
To touch your face, as I sit
On your knee
I ram my head onto your chest
I am weighed by my adoration
And my head sinks down to your skin
Like a stone through hasty waters made still
Here against you I press and curl
And I tell you of my immense love for you.
“Write with neither hope nor hopelessness, only with great dedication”
I’m in the middle of exams at the moment. Tomorrow I write both English and History.
Here’s a still from The Pianist. More or less history related (eugenics/genocide being the theme this term) so technically I do consider this studying.
-A table for talking
-The Admiral House
-Poor little rich boy
-A eulogy written for a girl leaving
This album in and around my mouth all week.