i'm not going to quote because this feels too personal a piece for me to feel comfortable disecting it and commenting on certain sections. it's a window one is required to look through and appreciate the entire room beyond, as opposed to picking out those things which immediately catch their eye.
you're aware by now that it made me cry, i'd imagine for a reason unique to me.
being aware that this was such an intensely personal piece, coupled with your amazing ability to communicate real feelings with words alone, it meant that reading this was like discovering a part of your history i was pretty much unaware of before. the realisation that there's so much about you i don't know when i'd give up all the time in the world to hear your stories, learn you inside out, it upset me. yes, i am LAME. whatever. back to complimenting your awesome ability, i think. yes, lets.
i was there watching these events unfold, making the fluid transitions between encounters and feeling each like the pull of a stitch. you're so talented di, that you can translate your memories into words that somehow swim together to create images and trigger something in the reader that they become involved in whatever story you're telling. it's a real gift.
on this occaision, my sympathies lie entirely with you. the kind of character who gets under your skin in barely any time at all and refuses to leave you be even after abandoning you? i have one of those, sporadic sightings and all, so i have some idea of how you feel.
this was just so beautifully, sensitively handled - like spun glass. i could look through this particular window time and again. really wonderful. it's wistful, painful, stark... hopeful, somehow. i'll cling to it like you cling to your memories. thanks for sharing ♥ .xx
it meant that reading this was like discovering a part of your history i was pretty much unaware of before I always wanted to tell you about Barnaby... I almost wrote about him in that last letter... he's just... God, there are no words. He just is. I hope, one day, you come to visit and I can shyly point him out in the darkened corner of "our" pub and you can smile and agree that he is FAR too pretty and then we'll walk away without a word... I can't talk to him anymore... it's too hard.
And don't feel upset that there's so much you don't know about me... we're still getting to know each other, baby. And, to be fair, we started talking just as he buggered off to France and he's only just got back hence this overwhelming rush of nostalgia... There's more to tell but these are just moments I picked out from mine and Barnaby's bizarre, twisted history. I will no doubt tell you about him again some time... probably after some drunken meeting in town one night... [I'm babbling]
I'd hope it sounds hopeful... that sounds weird but... I just can't let him go. You know how much I love Dan and I would never leave him but Barnaby is just... God, I don't know. I can't let him go and I hope, one day, the weirdness between us dissipates enough for us to be able to maintain some semblance of friendship... God, my brain is frying just thinking about him. See what I mean about losing my mind when he's involved?! Bleh...
you're aware by now that it made me cry, i'd imagine for a reason unique to me.
being aware that this was such an intensely personal piece, coupled with your amazing ability to communicate real feelings with words alone, it meant that reading this was like discovering a part of your history i was pretty much unaware of before. the realisation that there's so much about you i don't know when i'd give up all the time in the world to hear your stories, learn you inside out, it upset me. yes, i am LAME. whatever. back to complimenting your awesome ability, i think. yes, lets.
i was there watching these events unfold, making the fluid transitions between encounters and feeling each like the pull of a stitch. you're so talented di, that you can translate your memories into words that somehow swim together to create images and trigger something in the reader that they become involved in whatever story you're telling. it's a real gift.
on this occaision, my sympathies lie entirely with you. the kind of character who gets under your skin in barely any time at all and refuses to leave you be even after abandoning you? i have one of those, sporadic sightings and all, so i have some idea of how you feel.
this was just so beautifully, sensitively handled - like spun glass. i could look through this particular window time and again. really wonderful. it's wistful, painful, stark... hopeful, somehow. i'll cling to it like you cling to your memories. thanks for sharing ♥ .xx
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I always wanted to tell you about Barnaby... I almost wrote about him in that last letter... he's just... God, there are no words. He just is.
I hope, one day, you come to visit and I can shyly point him out in the darkened corner of "our" pub and you can smile and agree that he is FAR too pretty and then we'll walk away without a word... I can't talk to him anymore... it's too hard.
And don't feel upset that there's so much you don't know about me... we're still getting to know each other, baby. And, to be fair, we started talking just as he buggered off to France and he's only just got back hence this overwhelming rush of nostalgia... There's more to tell but these are just moments I picked out from mine and Barnaby's bizarre, twisted history. I will no doubt tell you about him again some time... probably after some drunken meeting in town one night... [I'm babbling]
I'd hope it sounds hopeful... that sounds weird but... I just can't let him go. You know how much I love Dan and I would never leave him but Barnaby is just... God, I don't know. I can't let him go and I hope, one day, the weirdness between us dissipates enough for us to be able to maintain some semblance of friendship... God, my brain is frying just thinking about him. See what I mean about losing my mind when he's involved?! Bleh...
I'm glad you enjoyed it, sugar. Thank you ♥ xx
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