Chrysanthemums

Porto, 10th of November 2016

Undress the clothes that confine the trueness of this unbodied skin: allow me to know triumph just once! Await, and than drag me through the edge of dark woods to cast my soul over the silver fountains of light: let them fled my fears and the haunting sorrows of a past that is about to revive. Let them replace the dirty mud living in me with aereal white Chrysanthemums; await until my arose and, at my last breath, warm these gelid hands with love and never with doom, ’cause love should always come before it. 

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Over a Flowering Bed

 

16th of August 2016

Dear Diary,

Dandelions, dragonflies, little birds flying everywhere. In this garden, life appears to me as a singular delight and my soul lays peaceful in contentment over a flowering bed. Mysterious doors, closed windows, old walls, stories waiting to be unveiled and told. Here there is no sadness, no fearful nights or injured memories. Half of me shall recovery here. Half of me shall find love here.

Because I am poor, obscure and little,…

 

“Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul as you — and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh: it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God’s feet, equal — as we are!”

Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë