Mascara

She found that her mascara had now been worn down on her rosy cheeks. It’s true that she’d still been in love with the past. The glimmer of what was still anchors her from moving towards a future that is brighter.

your song

Your song, which I can only imagine would sound like an open flowerbed in the dusk of summer. The kind you’d often find yourself frolicking in where the air is clean and the petals stretch multiple miles, far outside the reach of vision.

Your song sounds what a tropical forest smells and some odd way taste like, with all its fruit and rainwater bliss. The kind that is rich and flavorful. Wildlife and all.

Your song, to me, is what I’d often catch myself playing on repeat to the end of all my days; a wonderful tune.

Getting it.

I’m a strong believer that we, as people, won’t really get it. From the time we can conceive our own thoughts to the last puffs of the air we breathe. No matter how established we consider ourselves, there’s always hints of ignorances within us. Life is given to us without much of a blueprint to see what works and doesn’t. We can try, but for only so long. Ya know?

The Magus

The Magus by John Fowles.

What a poignant piece of literature. Only 50 or so pages in and it’s embarrassing to admit how it has made me teary-eyed. A mentor recommended me the novel. Said he should’ve read it in his 20’s. So far, I’m gradually understanding the importance of it.