Women are flexible…
@StellarisAntiqua ty for taking the time to comment! I’m glad you enjoyed it. ^ ^
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When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.
Helen Keller (via atavus)
@Amuse-bouche ty so much for taking the time to comment! =)
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Steve Jobs about Creativity
It is three hundred years after the Last War, where the chimera and the Feharin armies battled for supremacy over the Torian Continent. The gods, by right of their own immortal memories, have been reborn onto the world of Aster. They wake not to a world of peace, but to one with a new war on the horizon.
When the Phoenix and Moon collided within the Sylvan Aur, few escaped the explosion and rain of fire that destroyed the magnificent Sylvan City and its light in a single night. Now Aster is once again threatened to be destroyed by fire, with much of the world already succumbed to the cold, maddening sickness of the Aeger.
Aster’s dragons will rise to face a war they could not see the first time. For now, they have the one they have been waiting for to guide them.
As do their enemies.
A Chinese proverb says an invisible red thread connects those destined to meet, despite the time, the place, despite the circumstances. The thread can be tightened or tangled, but never be broken.
We don’t create a fantasy world to escape reality, we create it to be able to stay.” ― Lynda Barry
What happens if a writer falls in love with you?
You will find your hemp necklace with the glass mushroom pendant around the neck of someone at a bus stop in a short story. Your favorite shoes will mysteriously disappear, and show up in a poem. The watch you always wear, the watch you own but never wear, the fact that you’ve never worn a watch: they suddenly belong to characters you’ve never known. And yet they’re you. They’re not you; they’re someone else entirely, but they toss their hair like you. They use the same colloquialisms as you. They scratch their nose when they lie like you. Sometimes they will be narrators; sometimes protagonists, sometimes villains. Sometimes they will be nobodies, an unimportant, static prop. This might amuse you at first. Or confuse you. You might be bewildered when books turn into mirrors. You might try to see yourself how your beloved writer sees you when you read a poem about someone who has your middle name or prose about someone who has never seen To Kill A Mockingbird. These poems and novels and short stories, they will scatter into the wind. You will wonder if you’re wandering through the pages of some story you’ve never even read. There’s no way to know. And no way to erase it. Even if you leave, a part of you will always be left behind.
If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die.
If we, citizens, do not support our artists, then we sacrifice our imagination on the altar of crude reality and we end up believing in nothing and having worthless dreams.
Yann Martel, Life of Pi (via pavorst)