If you love something that somebody does—some art, some words, some sounds—you tell them that you love it. You tell everyone how much you love it, repeatedly and enthusiastically. Don’t save your appreciation for later, or worry about wearing people out with your passion. Because the happy truth is this: If a piece of art truly moves you, you will never, ever run out of new adjectives to express how much you love it. Getting to love someone’s art is one of the very finest parts of being alive.

Stirring the Surface —- Epilogue
No wise words. No excuses. Where are you now to teach me your words? The lake´s surface reflects the splashing water like a mirror, creating a second water jet, a reflection as real as the original itself. A parallel universe, beautiful in its imperfection and unpredictability. Coming to terms with the air, the sky, the mewing seagulls. Oh, we felt that coming long before we knew. Was is hesitation? The slow death of affection? Despondency? The smooth surface tells me it was only boredom that rises from accustoming, two hearts coming to terms with their disparity, finally parting. Because to collide means to destroy.

Stirring the Surface —- Epilogue

No wise words. No excuses. Where are you now to teach me your words? The lake´s surface reflects the splashing water like a mirror, creating a second water jet, a reflection as real as the original itself. A parallel universe, beautiful in its imperfection and unpredictability. Coming to terms with the air, the sky, the mewing seagulls. Oh, we felt that coming long before we knew. Was is hesitation? The slow death of affection? Despondency? The smooth surface tells me it was only boredom that rises from accustoming, two hearts coming to terms with their disparity, finally parting. Because to collide means to destroy.

Thank You

Thank you biutifulpics very much for reblogging my Cello Player! This is wonderful and I’m so humble and thankful for your concern.
Also a big Thank You to all the tumblrs who like that portrait. I appreciate every given little heart!
This is very special for me since that is one of the first real pictures I took with the simple yet indeed effective equipment my iPhone provides, and I’m stunned myself about the quality, and the ability to capture such an atmosphere without using the “big lens”.
Thank you all again! You just made my day :) tumblr on, guys, and be amazing!
Karolina

Stirring the Surface —- Chapter Five
I laid in bed all day and told my foreman a lie. It was easy and now it´s even easier to just lay and lie while the fading light adapts to the silence and the dreams, especially those in the bathroom behind the ferns. Some of the fresh green leaves turned brown and desiccated. And when they did I cut them with the scissors you used to cut my hair with. You left them here. And do you know why things thrown into water create circles while crashing the surface? Before they drown they remember the earth’s shape. A bubble. 

Stirring the Surface —- Chapter Five

I laid in bed all day and told my foreman a lie. It was easy and now it´s even easier to just lay and lie while the fading light adapts to the silence and the dreams, especially those in the bathroom behind the ferns. Some of the fresh green leaves turned brown and desiccated. And when they did I cut them with the scissors you used to cut my hair with. You left them here. And do you know why things thrown into water create circles while crashing the surface? Before they drown they remember the earth’s shape. A bubble. 

Stirring the Surface —- Chapter Four
You wished me luck on that perfect summer day. Perfect. I never really understood what perfect actually meant and you refused to enlighten me. So I figured it out all by myself. It was summer, no, not yet, but the air felt like first humid summer rains do, with the swallows flying low, and the taste of brackish water in my mouth. I told you I´ve made up my mind. The hands in your pockets answered, so what. So what. Nothing, I guessed. Nothing.

Stirring the Surface —- Chapter Four

You wished me luck on that perfect summer day. Perfect. I never really understood what perfect actually meant and you refused to enlighten me. So I figured it out all by myself. It was summer, no, not yet, but the air felt like first humid summer rains do, with the swallows flying low, and the taste of brackish water in my mouth. I told you I´ve made up my mind. The hands in your pockets answered, so what. So what. Nothing, I guessed. Nothing.

Stirring the Surface —- Chapter Three
Contempt thrives in the dark, in that tiny space under red and yellow pebbles, where people tend to forget about the sweetness they felt, the trembling, whispering sweetness they once loved and adored. You too felt it once, didn´t you? Adorable, lovable, little sweetness. The way you trembled and whispered while my skin felt like a book yet to be read. Its written words laying naked before you. Blown kisses stuck in the wind. My lips were shaking.

Stirring the Surface —- Chapter Three

Contempt thrives in the dark, in that tiny space under red and yellow pebbles, where people tend to forget about the sweetness they felt, the trembling, whispering sweetness they once loved and adored. You too felt it once, didn´t you? Adorable, lovable, little sweetness. The way you trembled and whispered while my skin felt like a book yet to be read. Its written words laying naked before you. Blown kisses stuck in the wind. My lips were shaking.