Where belongs the heart

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Do you sometimes wonder if you were born in the wrong era? Do feelings of nostalgia often awake you in the morning of something lost or somewhere forgotten? Ok, not in the literal sense, or like that of an episode of Doctor Who. But of a deep presence of longing the unattainable. Perhaps for you, it is a person, place, thought or all of the mentioned.

I feel it. It is a burden of missing a place I feel a part of. Of wanting more of the forgotten. Like a swan without its pond. Like a violin without its strings. I am but a feather floating in a city. Totally misplaced.

I am surrounded by a world culture that lives and breathes the modern aspirations of fad trends, intimidating messages of self-love and importance, a world more interested in assuring you that they are an entrepreneur rather than a morally decent person. I understand you can certainly be both. But the priority of it is amiss.

It is the age of the social. Where all is revealed in skin and flesh. An age where a woman’s modesty is seen as oppressive and ignorant to the age of feminism.

So yes. I am a misplaced soul who doesn’t quite belong in this world or time. I belong in a time where peoples fingers were stained with ink from mindful letters to loved ones. I long to walk through deep green woods and not in minimalistic cityscapes. I want the times where you would overhear men call their companions “darling” not “babe” like boys of today. Why don’t we send particular bouquets of flowers anymore that hold a meaning? When did the world ever become so lazy to those kinds of sentimental givings? Where belongs the heart? Where belongs your heart?

I think it is sad, so very sad that myself and people like me who adore history, art, winters with long rainy days, dusty books, solitude, Bible principles and who just enjoy “things” not appreciated by the masses now, but many years and centuries ago, are perceived as “uncool”, “totally weird”, “unusual” or “strange”. Or my favourite, “out of date”.

This is not a confession. I’m not trying to prove a point. I don’t judge the world around me. And I’m certainly not pleading to justify myself. I just, in all honesty, want to express myself here. I want to reach to you who like me, feel misplaced by how we live and thrive. Be the swan who finds its pond. Be the violin whose strings play your song.


I wonder what I look like in your eyes. – Unknown


Photo & Words by Camille Romeo

Worn

When you are worn tired and weary, read this. Let me remind you how your beauty is ageless. Your vibrancy is long lasting. Your heart and soul holds the simplicity of a classic work of art. Your soul could never grow old. Our love was formed from eternity. And like eternity never end.

CR

 

IMG_5776Photo: Michael Rougier. Tokyo, Japan. (1964)

 

Unraveling Threads

What has happened to such words of endearment to one another? When the mate of your soul once saw you with reflections of gold instead of what is now dust on a shelf? Why do you now begin to doubt the essence of my thoughts? and not smell the scent of my skin which trembled at the most gentle strokes of your fingertips? Does calling me darling not take you back to the memory of sitting by the sea shore caressing each other tightly as the waves tried to pull us apart? Where has the warm quiver of your bottom lip disappeared to as you kiss me goodnight under the porch light of your door? I know the hands of every clock are ticking by so quickly in this world, do they ring as loudly in your ears? as loudly as they ring in my ears as we sit beside each other in total silence waiting for the other to speak. Don’t let the love we built die within the walls of this cold place, please don’t make me write the will to my dying heart so that when this love is lost you are left with nothing from me but ashes and broken shards of the frosted glass you see me through. So as you go to walk away, please stop: Can we sit here together? Just sit here and begin to repair the un ravelled threads of this damaged love we committed in embroidering together? Because whether you see it or not I’m fighting here but need you to save me from the waves I’m drowning in. Let’s save each other from the depths of this dark place, let’s light the candle so we can see the glow on each other’s faces once again.

One more thing, please let me watch your lips as they move to the words and sound of your familiar voice call me darling, as we close our eyes to sleep, as we give this love another chance.

CR

Curtesy of André Azevedo