pseudojohnwicked
01/11/2024Beauty exists to be stolen. The phrase is by Ortega y Gasset. It was the first thing that came to my mind when I opened Ms. Fiction; who was eating grapes in the foreground while I was smoking a cigarette. I think of Gasset's phrase because it is counterintuitive. We learn that it is beauty that takes us by storm. From predator, she becomes insinuating prey; defenseless -- although not at all naive. We are the ones who rob the world (and art) of the meaning of beauty; I'm the one who steals from Ms. Fiction, a beauty that is now mine alone. She eats grapes and remembers a scene from Truffaut: because she is mine and can never be mine, nor Jim's. She stands up and reveals a mirror in the background; which in turn reveals another room. All mine and impossibly mine, like a good mystery. I stole Ms. Fiction in this first meeting; who you meet from now on is another, which forks each time and every time someone opens the window, like every good story worth telling. Lived. Stolen.
♥️ 02/08/2024