In the background playing Touch by Klemmer, and I feel as if I’m in the mid 70’s. I feel playful yet sensual. You come home and I’m dancing smoothly, my slight grin indicating join me. Lights, laughter, and lust entwined with a bit of whiskey. I feel sexy, and yours.

I wish I could have had you before losing you

I should’ve been flesh when words seemed too spoiled, been words when the flesh could not stand the fire anymore. 

I should’ve been fire, my love, when you needed to burn. 

But then, there you are: a picture between the fragrant pages of a notebook. 

What can I do for you?

I try to find you in others. It is always you that I’m looking for.

Is there someone I think about? Yes.

Real connections don’t just fade away with time or are diluted by new passions. They eventually draw a line in which every new connection awakens the old one, every now and then, like a mark. Some people are inevitable to you, whether you want it or not.

Thoughts...

It never stops, the wanting of you. I don’t suppose it ever will. Distance, time, disposition… It never matters. You. What I want is you. Now.

One of the many things I love about my father is that whenever he sees that I’m bored or just in a dull mood he always invites me out to drink tea with him. He takes me to my favorite bakery shop where they serve the most fantastic teas and drinks, or better yet, he invites me back to my parents' house and he makes us both a cuppa at home, and we just drink our favorite tea and we just talk. It’s so simple, yet it manages to put me in such a better mood. I love those moments. But most importantly, I love my pa!

How I’d love to lay my head on your lap and look straight into your eyes with a slight grin, while your hands steer me into the next direction. No begging.

About me

What is it that you want?

Receiving this question gave me a window of opportunity to really  express what I want, what I need: I want to start school again. I want to walk Park Ave again, which I miss dearly. I want to walk it wearing a trench coat around 6 o’clock with Falls’ winds. I want New York. New York’s snow. I want to be alone in beautiful bookshops while getting stares. Yet I want California. I want men with tattoos and motorcycles. I want to wear my pin curls more. I want black. I want to reread Bonjour Tristesse, which is another thing I miss. I also want to feel as if I’m in Hemingway’s Garden of Eden at those beautiful locations wearing espadrilles. I want beautiful lighting. I want to watch "Midnight in Paris" again. I want private adventures with genuinely good hearted people (for once in my life). I want to delete this blog and actually start living what I reblog and write about. I want to live a happy, passionate, luxurious, successful, and artistic life.

Thank you.

My personality profiles

http://www.millon.net/taxonomy/schizoid.htm
http://www.millon.net/taxonomy/avoidant.htm
http://www.millon.net/taxonomy/paranoid.htm
http://www.millon.net/taxonomy/negativistic.htm
http://www.millon.net/taxonomy/summary.htm

Text adventures #1

I asked him...

Me: "Why are you afraid of me?"
Him: "You're beautiful, classic, sexy, nasty, naughty, fly, smart, you have great taste, you're talented, you can cook, your pussy is so fucking good. The way you fuck is an art. I mean you garden, for God's sake. Women like you are dangerous. They make lesser men lose their minds. They bring great men & kingdoms to ruin....but, they can also make lesser men great & inspire already great men to be immortal."
Me: "That shit made my day."
Him: "You asked, I told you."

I abuse my power as a woman and I have no intention of stopping. I eat men for protein.