In the way Venus is—or a particularly tall, towering tree, rising out of a sea of green leaves, a breath before the gleaming line of the horizon.
It’s a very human thing, to crave attention. A profoundly mammalian instinct. Five years ago, answering this same question, I would have told you that I ache to be understood, to be known and known completely, mortifying ordeal or no. But this is impossible. In the interim, I have made peace with this essential fact of loneliness which seems, to me, inherent to existence. The border between people can blur, but it can never be completely broken through: and that’s alright.
So, Venus, or a towering tree. Rather than being admired, or desired, or acknowledged—all things which come with assumptions, with people consciously or unconsciously imposing their impression, their image of me over my true face, a face which may perhaps be known in its entirety only to God—I would rather inspire in people that selfsame sense of brightness, a point of beauty alien and remote and, crucially, fleeting.
As a person, I hope to only be a tall stranger slipping through the crowd, leaving behind the faint fragrance of good perfume. The eye may rest on me for a moment: just long enough to remember without a particularly strong impression. That woman’s hair is so long!, perhaps. What a lovely coat.
Like Venus in cornflower blue, like a tall tree in twilight, I hope to leave my reader inchoate and contemplative. Not the door but the doorway, you know? Not the fire but the match.
Venus in blue, a tall green tree, swaying as dusk burns itself out.
titsay
annaxmalina
areudirty
jbbartram-illu
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pixelskylines
