Who's the dude what's taken a long fucking time to update ElJay? ME! (I am.)
Yeah, the last time doesn't count. That was my Jessica Rose writing under my name, in case you couldn't tell. Which, undoubtedly, you could. That girl radiates magic identifiable only as hers.
It's July 31, 2005, 4:25 PM, and I'm sitting at the tail end of the most sacred three weeks I've ever known. I've known so many of these moments over the last few months, instances that become legends and mist-shrouded reminders of divinity in the whispered telling of ghostwater fables in Island hiding places. Moments that transform time, turning three days into four and three weeks into a lifetime. Then the rain falls, Angels spread their wings and disappear behind rolling seas of cloud, and all that's left is perpetual Thursday sunrise and quiet perfection at 2:26 in the morning.
I've never, ever known beauty like this.
Supernova beauty.
It's July 31, 2005, 4:25 PM, and I'm sitting at the tail end of the most sacred three weeks I've ever known. I've known so many of these moments over the last few months, instances that become legends and mist-shrouded reminders of divinity in the whispered telling of ghostwater fables in Island hiding places. Moments that transform time, turning three days into four and three weeks into a lifetime. Then the rain falls, Angels spread their wings and disappear behind rolling seas of cloud, and all that's left is perpetual Thursday sunrise and quiet perfection at 2:26 in the morning.
I've never, ever known beauty like this.
Supernova beauty.