#tragiclife

[rielisms]

grave

I felt numb, Numb all over.

It made me wonder if emotions ever run through my bones, or was it a sweet dream I just woke up from. The things I was once passionate for, things I used to breathe for, now is just a speck of dust at my feet–– truly unimportant, and static. The love for life and art I flaunted around with pride is now gone, replaced by the ghosts I don’t recognise–– ghosts that possessed my body with consent, cutting pieces of me that didn't fit inside the suffocating vase of society.

I once promised myself not to succumb to the surroundings or people around me. But now I’m afraid, I’m so afraid I just did.

[ladycatterley-blog]

<<sometimes I ask myself what the meaning of this tragic life really is>>

[mexico-et-al]

Constance, the tragic and scandalous life of Mrs. Oscar Wilde

Once I started reading this book, I could not put it down.  Everyone knows who Oscar Wilde is but, I at least knew nothing about his wife, Constance. She was someone worthy of admiration.   True she was a wife madly in love with her husband but she was so much more.   She had exquisite taste, was a writer and translator.   She spoke several languages but what most surprised me was her work promoting sensible clothes.   Now this may sound ridiculous but clothing in the XIX century was a health hazard.  Corsets deformed chests; the materials were highly flammable and nothing they wore allowed any freedom of movement.  Oscar Wilde was flamboyant, but his wife was not far behind.   Both of them were fashion icons and the brightest London hosts at the time.  I do not want to give the ending away, but although she was not present physically at his trial, she never abandoned him.  Constance, a women truly worthy of admiration. 

[thetragiclifeofme]

Goodbye to Budapest

Today was my final day in Budapest. I had an exciting and interesting time here and I am sorry to go. However, tomorrow starts a new adventure! Onwards to Berlin!