C'est génial, vraiment très très beau! Mais pas cool, j'ai envie d'un carré de Loulou maintenant ;)
As melodramatic as I know it sounds,the physical reaction I have to this editorial is undeniable. Their eyes, full to bursting with beauty and the innocence of yearning, feeling as if some part of one's self is gutted without the other. And then my own reality, no woe-is-me, but what we all experience at one time: to love, and for love to flit its own way. To be lost. It's a lonliness I don't know I'll ever shake, a parasite that's nudged its way into a chamber-tomb, taken up residence among the four valves where someone -- that one -- used to be. There's a churning in my stomach, a menace of gooseflesh that claims my arms, useless dangling heavy things that once held him -- and simultaneously I'm present; I feel my ribs, a rusty birdcage to be peeled back. The rusty hinges on a jewelry box . . .
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