a sad alligator @asadalligator - Tumblr Blog

A page from Anthology of Persian Poetry, Timurid, c. 1450, made of ink, gold leaf, opaque watercolor, silver leaf, book bound by leather. MET

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Valentine Hugo, Le Sacre du Printemps: Danse sacrale de l'élue [La danseuse Maria Piltz dans la danse du sacrifice], ink, 41 x 30 cm, in Montjoie! Magazine, 03/06/1913.

A sketch describing Vaslav Nijinsky’s original choreography of the Danse sacrale (Sacrificial Dance) from Igor Stravinsky’s ballet Le Sacre du printemps.

i feel the pull of his desire as he approached me, slow and deliberate, slicing through a fog of unspent passion that seemed almost tangible, thick like the shadows in an ovidian tale. when our noses brushed in a languid, teasing dance, and before my tongue reached to taste his, i could sense the molten heat radiating between us—an invisible thread that seemed to hum like the tension in a lautrec, au lit: le baiser, embrace, charged yet tender. for nights, i had painted him in my consciousness, crafting visions of his body pressing against mine, turning me onto sheets of crimson, clinging delicately to my breasts as though sculpted by the hands of bernini. the linen, cool at first, warmed under the weight of our intimacy—the sacred and profane colliding in an electric symphony of skin and breath.

connections are difficult to grasp; i find myself reflecting on the triviality of existence when certain events arise unannounced. so unannounced that i’m compelled to pinch a part of myself, hoping to confirm whether i’ve wandered into an oniric zone or if this is truly the unfiltered reality. a part of me knows i often seal away fleeting emotions, erecting barriers to shield my fragile self from the gaze of others. yet, some dust stars have flashes too luminous and rare for me to justify such selfishness. in their presence, i recall ancient vows made under moonlight—to unburden my âme and let the winds carry the pieces i’ve kept hidden. so, from this day forth, i vow to be freer with myself, to slowly loosen the chains that bind my heart, or at the very least, to make a true and earnest attempt.