#miaojin

[livesunique]

Schönbrunn Palace, Vienna, Austria,

Among the prized possessions of the huge collection at Schönbrunn Palace are valuable Chinese screens from the imperial manufactory in Beijing.

Their black lacquer panels masterly-painted with gold using the Chinese Miaojin technique were placed in panelling made from flamed maple and set with a gilded frame in 1770.

Delicate gold paintings of landscapes, pagodas and floral patterns have been captivating the eye since that time in the Vieux-Laque Room, giving expressions of happiness, fortune, transience and immortality.

[take-me-where-the-poets-went]

Maybe I could love a number of others, whether physically or spiritually. But I know that it would never reach the depth and completeness of my love for you. I could never want to belong to someone else the way I want in both body and heart to belong to you. -Qiu Miaojin, Last Words From Montmartre

[take-me-where-the-poets-went]

So though I'm desperate and my love unrequited, I persist in loving you with every last part of my soul. -Qiu Miaojin, Last Words From Montmartre

[take-me-where-the-poets-went]

My desire for someone else could never reach the degree of want I feel for you. Do you know all this? So it's you, just you. There can never be anyone else for the deepest reaches of my body and soul. Even if you don't want me anymore, don't love me anymore, and don't belong to me anymore. -Qiu Miaojin, Last Words From Montmartre

[take-me-where-the-poets-went]

My soul is slipping away from you even as I try to cling to it. -Qiu Miaojin, Last Words From Montmartre

[take-me-where-the-poets-went]

Your spirit and my spirit are made from the same material. -Qiu Miaojin, Last Words From Montmartre

[take-me-where-the-poets-went]

For more than a month now I haven't been able to think about you without feeling wounded and resentful because needing or desiring you would hurt even worse (...) -Qiu Miaojin, Last Words From Montmartre

[take-me-where-the-poets-went]

But how can my sorrow ever end when I'm so alone here? Even if I were to reconcile with everyone in the world I've ever hurt and who's hurt me, would my sorrow end? Why is there so much hurt in the world? My soul has already endured so much wounding. Can it sustain more? How can it assimilate so many wounds? Will it be able to assimilate the wounds and then move on and make a fresh start? -Qiu Miaojin, Last Words From Montmartre