

the path to dublinThe path to Dublin is a devout nomad, wandering this way and that under the feet of a season sprinting off into a little town to smolder in the field or in the sky, to end a life turned over on its colder side. The path to Dublin is covered in dust. Sometimes it is disturbed by hooves crested with uncertain horseshoes or feet guided by a mind too shy to ask faith for directions.the path to dublin
Sometimes it remembers that the weight of the world once plodded above its head, curved its spine. Sometimes it just forgets and winds itself to the edge of a cliff where a lighthouse stands waving its yellow-sleeved arm in the distance, claiming to know


leitmotif(I will never forgive Millais for painting Ophelia calm in the water. My cousin Noah died shoeless and struggling under a lonely mans hands, his eyes full of rain runoff. Real people dont sink as pretty as oil on canvas: Noah was four feet five on the autopsy slab, no flowers, no frames. I am ruled by the aesthetic, but I would embrace his every imperfection if it meant having him back. This clumsy dilettante still loves Noah with the scabs on his shins, sitting sloppy at Sams recitals in sneakers and shorts. Give me the asymmetry of his eyelashes. For the firleitmotif
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find me a storm where the wild winds blow.
i really love it..
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~You see things; and you say, 'Why?' But I dream things that never were; and I say, "Why not?"~
You have excellent taste in writers. :3
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92% of the population of Earth are boring, uncreative, unoriginal bums. If you are one of the 8% who aren't... do not copy and paste this into your signature!
~agentELROND
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