She has within her infinite chances to break the chains that bind her and burn the past away, to be able to let go of the shore and flow upon the winding river that stretches eternally in front of her. The bridges she burns and watches fall in the distance are those which lead back towards that ...
He is gone, but her heart will not stop swaying to the rhythm of this song, to the branding of these words on her sensitive soul. She has grown and she has been broken into the knowing of that which forever remains: that love cannot play without pain.
Art is an expression and translation of life from one to another, connecting the dots and merging one into all. Art resonates like the Universe; both are always speaking to us, and through us. Art is song, dance, beauty, nature, breath, imagery, paint, food, touch, kissing, poetry, pottery; it ...
I’m right with you.
Not the kind of right where you need to know the answer, but the kind of right where it’s okay if I’m wrong.
The kind of right where the odds are against me, but somehow our hearts still beat to the tune of the same song.