I will tell you why I love this lass
Oh why she's so different from the others.

She hid herself as much as she could
and only gave the best of herself for the screen.
She let you wonder and drew your conclusions
based on malice lies and slander from those who were mean.

She was tempted by an opportunity
and slipped weakly into temptation.
But who could blame her as she slipped and fell?
The spotlights tend to burn terribly bright, darling.

And so the sneers jeered and the fingers pointed
and the name calling started and the contracts retracted.

But she is lovely in her own special way;
a jigsaw complement to her sparkly darling.
She wears herself plain and honest
rarely caked up with powder and pencil markers.
I could imagine us sipping a warm beverage on wooden chairs
and talking about things far and wide
while nibbling on crusty, crumbly pastries.

So thank you for scanning by this post;
I reckon it's a manageable read.
So this concludes a summary of short sentences
on a person I'd like to meet.

//

On a side note, I think I'm ready to plunge into the Doctor Who fandom.
Oh, I think it's most definitely risking my emotions a fair bit
considering how they tend to be fluctuating now.
But I'm attracted to things with melancholic sentimental values, you see.
I doubt I'll be let down.

'till another day.

Darling,

I found so much solace in the keys.
I recall the days where I cried, where I felt oh so tired
and my eyes struggled to keep themselves open
as my tutor sat by me and pianoforte and instructed me.
Oh, the terrible yet educational days!

I suppose I must say I am very very grateful indeed
my fingers were nurtured and taught the rhythm and dance
of the black and white keys.
The light, delicate and graceful songs the pianoforte
sang to me as my fingers pranced and glided have always gave me a sense of serenity-
a lovely awakening method of emotional catharsis
other than my beloved media the pencil and the paper.

My soul feels so free, and somehow I can feel it dance gracefully
within me instead of always dwelling dully in the melancholy abyss of dark emotions.

I love and adore ever so much
this wonderful feeling inside of me.

Oh, the beauty of the hammer and the strings.

A soul alone is a remarkable thing;
its essence, its being, its beauty- all fused inside.
But sometimes a lone soul can be lonely,
sometimes the soul may seek the company of its kind.

A soul that yearns for another soul,
a soul that simply knows his body is only a mere capsule-
a physical, solid wall of cells to protect the fragile and oh! so delicate being inside.

A soul that yearns for another soul,
who understands her attraction for the bizarre
and lets her dwell in her melancholy ways.

When two souls find each other,
they delight in each other's company and the similarities of interests and dislikes.
They admire each other's capsules, but no, not with lust.
They trace each other along the outlines of the creases and nooks;
run ever so lightly down the spine on the back and twirl around
the soft curve of the hips.
Two souls that speak stories when their lips meet-
be it silent, a whimper, or a desperate cry-
a fusion of souls who speak much without words.

The souls love each other
and are happy because-
they found a personal version of another.

This scene depicted above scares me.
Oh, I can feel the irony seep through my veins as you compare
this brightly lit one to the soft melancholic images I use to accompany my other posts.

But the thing is,
a mixture of emotions were incited in me as soon as I laid eyes on this image.
It's almost to say, the emotions queued up in an orderly line before they occurred.
It was awe incited by the travel bug in me, the refreshing and calming feel the ocean colours gave my eyes, and then finally, a sense of abandonment, or loneliness.

It was like the person in the photo is trapped in this perfect utopia
of color and scenery and feel and textures of coarse sand and splashing water-
which she would never be able to share with anyone. Ever.

She will lie on the coarse surface
and feel the sand etch its stories onto her back
and close her eyes as she listens to the waves crash and roar stories brought from afar...
but she's always so solitary. Always so...
alone.

“And I’ll write you letters and smuggle them into your room in old film canisters, not knowing when you’ll find them. Some won’t be letters, they’ll be instructions telling you to; walk five steps, place your finger on your nose and smile. There’ll be film canisters filled with confetti that reads ‘Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me’. I’ll use silly codes to name you songs I think you’d like and you’ll find a tape under your pillow with me repeating ‘Goodnight, goodnight’ "

I like how I like their story and how it's so subtle and so expressive at the same time and all the dark and lovely elements and the ones you normally brush off as childish and pointless come together so complementary and you'll have to pay attention to notice all the small details and the secrets a man hid inside this story.

This isn't the first time I've expressed my veneration and absolute adoration for this movie but every time I chance upon a scene from the movie or even look at the photo of these two, ahhh, let's just say my spirits are lifted. This isn't a movie for the masses, and I would think not everyone would enjoy this movie, but I would say this is the movie I can call mine. That one movie where you, among your other peers, seem to love and enjoy and maybe even at some point- identify with the most.

This is the story of Oskar and how he met Eli.

// I foreshadow a writer's block looming ahead. If you do not hear from me soon, I'll be at the other end sharing my thoughts in another manner.

'Till then.