frustrated. what am i doing wrong?
imagine with me, if you will, a snowfall.
the catastrophic peace of a winter morning, grey skies and icy windows framed by flakes laid to rest
frostbitten breezes wind through heavy-laden branches, sending clouds of snow swirling through the air as if from a powder-puff against a grandmother's cheek
wandering rays of sunlight find their way through the cloud cover
and it's beautiful.
missing a friend.
i chase the weight of the moments after rainfall
where the world is restored to its former peace, albeit heavier, and the only sounds are the whispers of wayward droplets being tossed down from the treetops to join their minuscule sea
a soaring color full of hope, richness, depth, beauty.
the color of the horizon when the lingering rays of sunlight caress the hills
the gentle breath of lavender swaying in a summer breeze
a tribute to dreams of prosperity
i look at my phone for a text from /them/ way too often.
i think adam sandler is genuinely hilarious
"what's that thing a horse wears on their hooves again?"
a 19th-20th century author and poet. influenced by romanticism, namely the works of william wordsworth, he wrote many fine works. such works include tess of the d’urbervilles, far from the madding crowd, and several beautiful poems. (see: the darkling thrush)
i leant upon a coppice gate
when frost was spectre-grey,
and winter's dregs made desolate
the weakening eye of day.
the tangled bine-stems scored the sky
like strings of broken lyres,
and all mankind that haunted nigh
had sought their household fires.
the land's sharp features seemed to be
the century's corpse outleant,
his crypt the cloudy canopy,
the wind his death-lament.
the ancient pulse of germ and birth
was shrunken hard and dry,
and every spirit upon earth
seemed fervourless as i.
at once a voice arose among
the bleak twigs overhead
in a full-hearted evensong
of joy illimited;
an aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
in blast-beruffled plume,
had chosen thus to fling his soul
upon the growing gloom.
so little cause for carolings
of such ecstatic sound
was written on terrestrial things
afar or nigh around,
that i could think there trembled through
his happy good-night air
some blessed hope, whereof he knew
and i was unaware
thomas hardy the darkling thrush
(turkish: ayasofya) a cathedral built in the 6th century in modern-day istanbul, turkey. constructed under the direction of byzantine emperor justinian i, it is considered one of, if not the most significant byzantine monuments. it stands today as a symbol of the religious developments that have taken place throughout the ages in this city. presenting elements of both islam and christianity alike, it started as an orthodox christian temple and was converted to a muslim mosque after the ottoman conquest in 1543. it was converted to a museum and named a unesco world heritage site in 1934, and has since been converted back to a mosque.
a sprawling city with a gorgeous skyline. home to little new york, the strip, and many beautiful shopping centers. very, very hot... image