Um.
Okay, so even though I have tons to say, I definitely wasn’t going to post until I got home from work. I must break my silence, however, for the following, because oh, my god.
“This is not a story about poetry. This is not a story about art.
Sometimes a thing just happens between people. There's a shimmer in the air between them, a pull from one skin to the next. There's a moment when a person looks, intently, as he has done for a while now, and the other one flickers, because this is sudden, and then has the courage to look back. And blood flushes cheeks. Blood calls. And there's a moment.
And then there is more.”
Sweet fucking Christ. I have no words. None.
“This is not a story about poetry. This is not a story about art.
Sometimes a thing just happens between people. There's a shimmer in the air between them, a pull from one skin to the next. There's a moment when a person looks, intently, as he has done for a while now, and the other one flickers, because this is sudden, and then has the courage to look back. And blood flushes cheeks. Blood calls. And there's a moment.
And then there is more.”
Sweet fucking Christ. I have no words. None.