“You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
They called me the hyacinth girl.”
—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
god, i fell so madly in love with people again today. not just people- but art and words and life. i left home- called a friend. he fetched me and we drove out of this town and into the middle of the city. i love it there. the city is alive. it has a pumping heartbeat, and you can feel it. we walked around. we ate at an eastern food bazaar. we gave food to a homeless man. the man refused to accept our food until he’d shaken our hands and learned our names. it really broke my heart, but in the best way possible. we went to an art gallery. i asked one of the artists where his inspiration comes from. he told me it comes from somewhere so deep that he can’t name it. he told me all he can do is paint, that it’s all he has. that since he was born he knew his destiny was to be an artist and that there’s nothing else he could possibly do. it broke my heart all over again. we went to an african market. we had no money but a rasta man told us to come in his shop anyway, just so that he could say hi and wish us a good day. fuck, man. i love passionate people. i love artists. i love people that openly bleed for a living. i love book stores and antique shops and art galleries and side streets and cultures and human diversity. i love offering people that look sad cigarettes. i love how surprised people are at something as simple as a stranger offering you something for nothing in return. i have never felt as in sync to human emotion before. i have never felt things this intensely before. i want to immerse myself in art and emotion. i want to wrap my arms around every goddamn passionate person in this city. people can be so beautiful in their mannerisms. it really makes my heart ache.