Walking, Stumbling, Falling, Standing.

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I'm thinking of turning this tumblr into a Project 365 thing.

but i’ll start on next year’s first day, ‘cause i’m a perfectionist like that :D

"Letting go and giving is one of the most beautiful and painful things of loving."

A line from P’s journal — i had permission to read writings of her most intense conversations with God. <3

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When two people are under the influence of the most violent, most insane, most delusive, and most transient of passions, they are required to swear that they will remain in that excited, abnormal, and exhausting condition continuously until death do them part.

–

George Bernard Shaw

Irish Playwright, 20th Century

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“He lay her down and softly pressed his lips against hers, taking the time to memorize its shape. Slowly, he moved down and traced her jawline, until he reached and nuzzled at her ear. All this while her heart started racing, her breathing, heavier. Without hesitation, she pulled his face close back to hers to dissolve in a kiss that lit up a thousand sparks. He brushed his hand over her back and carefully unclasped her bra…”

LOL.

Yes, my PHILIEN prof had the whole class to write a love scene and this was what i eventually came up with.

[click to read more]

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:imtumblringplz:

I’m gonna have to be motivated to post as regurlarly as i can here because this whole blog thing is required by my PHILIEN (Philippine Literature in English) class.

So… miss Nicole De Dios, if you’re reading this, well hello! ^_^

..& Adios, ‘til my next post!

P.S. i don’t tumble for tumblarity.

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Cafeteria table.

Photo by me (see watermark.)

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The moon slips and shines in the wrinkled mirror before the prow, and from the northern sky the Bright Companions shoot glancing arrows of light along the water. In the stern of the boat the polesman stands in the watchful solemnity of his task. His movements as he poles and steers the boat are slow, certain, august. The long, low channelboat slides on the black water as silently as the reflection it pursues. A few dark figures huddle in it. One dark figure lies full length on the halfdeck, arms at his sides, closed eyes unseeing that other moon slipping and shining through wisps of fog in the luminous blue night sky…

– I love the opening of “Olders” by Ursula Le Guin. Especially those that i’ve italized. Ahh, artful description. ♥

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