rosetum

how do you picture yourself in a hundred years?

no one lives forever, fairy. infinity awaits for us all.

" she had been a hopeless romantic person, since the beginning of time really — after all, she was an artist. she would always romanticize even the slightest and most simple things around her, like the unspoken affection between two strangers crossing the street hand in hand, or the soft touch of the summer breeze on her cheeks, or the thrill of witnessing the creation of an artwork such as a tiny sculpture made out of marble by a professional hewer, near the seine river, or even as the colorful and nonrepresentational graffiti of rebellious teenagers on the hidden corners of new york. god, she could even describe with gratitude the steaming cup of earl grey tea, she enjoyed everyday as part of her morning ritual. yet, she had not been able to find someone who would appreciate life to its fullness, the same way she did. sure, many guys her age, who spoke different languages, around the world, had attempted to approach her, but the moment they discovered, what an oddity she was behind her fairy-like looks, they would run away. and she didn't really mind that, but occasionally the desperate hopes of finally meeting her other half and getting into adventures together, would come to surface. "