Fragments of November.
 |
| by 제딧/Jedit |
What I am listening to these days: if you carry your childhood with you, you never become older, Dreaming of me and you, Late night walk, and Feels like home. Mellow melodies. Melancholy, la mélancolie. A poignant tenderness, a pebble sinking to the bottom of the galaxy.
What else? Anything that makes up this quiet November.
Floriography, the language of flowers. Chrysanthemum: lost love. Polemonium: I will wait for you. Calla: dream-like love. Marigold: love at first sight.
Pierre Bergé said at the funeral of Yves Saint Laurent: "...one day I will join you under Moroccan palms."
On twitter, there's an artist that I like very much. They draw big blue whale swimming among stars, a person standing underneath a pink starry sky, a girl playing violin in a forest, autumn leaves paint the world in bright yellow.
I like all of these. Joy, I am not so sure. Sadness, no, it's not sadness. Somehow I feel like I am going to remember, some kind of nostalgia.
Pierre Bergé said at the funeral of Yves Saint Laurent: "...one day I will join you under Moroccan palms."
On twitter, there's an artist that I like very much. They draw big blue whale swimming among stars, a person standing underneath a pink starry sky, a girl playing violin in a forest, autumn leaves paint the world in bright yellow.
I like all of these. Joy, I am not so sure. Sadness, no, it's not sadness. Somehow I feel like I am going to remember, some kind of nostalgia.
Comments
Post a Comment