English / USA 
Português / Brasil 
Subscribe 
fred4455
She is an ocean. Beautiful, charming, dangerous and mysterious. Which can change from peaceful to extremely strict without warning. Oceans like this have always encouraged the curiosity of brave navigators, who left without knowing if they would return. If you like shallow waters, don't come here without a buoy. If you prefer calm winds, avoid it, after all sailboats without breeze are useless at sea. Cult, if I could swallow everything that forms you, I would drown without thinking twice. Thank you for so much!
pseudojohnwicked
Beauty 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.
