fanning the fannish flames
Tuesday, and I missed philosophy. Traffic sucks and the world's half-grey at times and more than half-bright; so bright, the light spilling out of cracks in the pavement and the backs of leaves.
I watched the whole Season 1 of Heroes over the weekend and had time to spare to fan the shipper's flames. Yes, I heart a new pairing. It's even part-canon, haha. And that's all I'm gonna say about it here.
Anyway, apart from fic binging for my new ship, I wanted to revisit an old, undying ship as well. I found this poem in a book I picked up at random in the school library. When I flipped to this page, I knew it was destiny. I find the metaphors in the poem apt and fitting for my fangirlish needs: El, the broken hoe; Sands, the summer moon. And considering my fondness for ' ponderous hoes', I liked it immediately. Here's to you, my favourite killers from Once Upon A Time in Mexico:
The Land of Night
Jorge Teillier
Let's not talk.
It's better to open windows
mute since the death of the oldest sister.
The voice of the grass makes night hush:
It hasn't rained for a month.
Empty nests fall from the vine.
The cherry trees go out like vintage songs.
This month will be for the dead.
This month will be for the ghost
of the summer moon.
Shine on, summer moon.
Stone stairs worn down
by the steps of ancestors come alive.
Bats don't stop chittering
among the crumbling walls of the Brewery.
The broken hoe
waits for fresh earth from new graves.
And we shouldn't speak
when the moon shines
whiter and more merciless than the bones of the dead.
Shine on, summer moon.
I watched the whole Season 1 of Heroes over the weekend and had time to spare to fan the shipper's flames. Yes, I heart a new pairing. It's even part-canon, haha. And that's all I'm gonna say about it here.
Anyway, apart from fic binging for my new ship, I wanted to revisit an old, undying ship as well. I found this poem in a book I picked up at random in the school library. When I flipped to this page, I knew it was destiny. I find the metaphors in the poem apt and fitting for my fangirlish needs: El, the broken hoe; Sands, the summer moon. And considering my fondness for ' ponderous hoes', I liked it immediately. Here's to you, my favourite killers from Once Upon A Time in Mexico:
The Land of Night
Jorge Teillier
Let's not talk.
It's better to open windows
mute since the death of the oldest sister.
The voice of the grass makes night hush:
It hasn't rained for a month.
Empty nests fall from the vine.
The cherry trees go out like vintage songs.
This month will be for the dead.
This month will be for the ghost
of the summer moon.
Shine on, summer moon.
Stone stairs worn down
by the steps of ancestors come alive.
Bats don't stop chittering
among the crumbling walls of the Brewery.
The broken hoe
waits for fresh earth from new graves.
And we shouldn't speak
when the moon shines
whiter and more merciless than the bones of the dead.
Shine on, summer moon.