The feminine urge to ramble like a lunatic about your favourite books to every pair of ears you come across while simultaneously gatekeeping because that is the reason you were able to function that one week and your personality stems entirely from it
Europa auf dem Stier by Ferdinand Leeke (1910)
Bitches be like "he's the love of my life" but he's just another fictional man that sets their bar for love higher and higher and yet breaks their heart because they know that love may never exist.
It's me, I'm Bitches.
Today on annotating Franz Kafka’s letters to Milena: This whole passage was beautiful and then… milk?
A world of light
Where roses burn, soft petals lie scattered,
Exhibiting the bane of worldly weight
In their clinging to colours, damned to fade.
For a second there, I thought love mattered,
However, I see this miserly state
As proof of its expendable design.
Once purpose has been served, I am afraid
What love established, life will see battered,
Until all there's left is a ruined slate.
However, that rose was never betrayed;
She never was claimed in ‘forever mine’;
She never did ‘want’, let alone too much.
She withers with grace, for she does not pine
A world of light, vivified by your touch.
16-8-2022, M.A. Tempels ©
"The tragedy of what could have been is nearly as crippling as what once was but can never be."
– Pillow thoughts by Courtney Peppernell
Night-Market In Amsterdam, With The Dam Palace And The Nieuwe Kerk In The Background, ca. 1864
Petrus van Schendel, known as Monsieur Chandelle
"A university degree, four books & hundreds of articles and I still make mistakes when reading. You wrote me "Good Morning" and I read it as "I Love You".
"And you'll always love me won't you? Yes
And the rain won't make any difference? No"
― Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms