She will always be the enigma & the invitation, the untamed & the adorned, the veil of composure & the flicker of desire // A woman who is both silk & steel — soft enough to delicately slip through fingers & strong enough to leave a mark.

Solitude breeds genius. It’s not “natural” to speak brilliantly, create masterpieces, have deep thoughts & moments of enlightenment within groups, amongst loud family, too much noise. From a sociology point of view, you can see cultures who value quiet time make more innovative

Animals in the jungle attracted to cross has scientists baffled. In the small town of Mysuru, India, a centuries-old monastery has long been known for the large cross that stands just outside its walls. For decades, locals have whispered about something extraordinary elephants,

Morning Pages. The Artist’s Way™ of combing through the subconscious to acquire the jewels. Also works when you’re delusional, delirious & exhausted.

For me, insanity is super sanity. The normal is psychotic. Normal means lack of imagination, lack of creativity. { Jean Dubuffet } Original thought. Uniqueness. A clear point of view. A true voice. Sovereignty.

Also, no greater admission of “I let myself go” like wearing a full track suit when flying. Like, what happened to PanAm? Where is the respect? I noticed men who prefer wearing the softest, cozy, athleisure type clothes everywhere { even athletes, celebrities } are spiritually

Catch me if you can. Frank Abignale. Leo. Few understand the brilliance of this relic.

I read ancient lore they’d knit one flaw like a double knot into a cashmere sweater, like a protection evil eye against negative energies. I’ve adopted that in my writing & art too, a small error that makes me look incompetent, but am I, really? Or is it all double, trouble? xx

The world is infinite, endless beauty, endless brilliance, right? Or is multifaceted depth, met with serendipity actually rare? The sheer probability of limitations & time constraints is what cultivates true beauty & magic. The essence of one rose plucked from your garden vs. a

If you see me, don’t say hello.

Pulled an all nighter so ofc I’m on savage mode. The only people I respect in the current zeitgeist are spiritually in the age range of 44 to 1113. Not biological age. Soul depth. Weight. Lord, keep these skinny, sensitive young men far away from me.

Imagine being a full grown man & posting photos of random hot girls on your X seriously like it’s some sort of accomplishment. Like? Embarrassing.

I think I am in love with silence, that other world just beyond reach. I write, I suppose, to come closer to it, to find a way of speaking with it. I listen to Sade at midnight with 13 candles. If poems are records of risk — the soul trying, trembling, to change — then all of

https://t.co/rYRenlVAll

Dreamy baby xx

“Looking the part is not ‘being’ the part.” - craig d. lounsbrough

I see it all, but I don’t care. I’m confident.

If you want to write, if you want to create, you must be the most sublime fool that God ever turned out & sent rambling ... You must read dreadful dumb books & glorious books, and let them wrestle in beautiful fights inside your head, vulgar one moment, brilliant the next. You

I don’t know how many births it takes to get reborn as not the flower, but the scent. To be allowed to exist as air. { Floating } A prayer to whom? Dear whom: the weight of being is too much. On the Spectrum of Possible Deaths, 'After Reading The Tibetan Book of the Dead'

Some people make you crave burgers, the rare Coca Cola, Dessert. Some make you crave strong coffee, flowers & sunshine. Fascinating. I wonder why.