Hidden Place

Lo dì che han detto a’ dolci amici addio. - DanteAmor, con quanto sforzo oggi mi vinci! - Petrarca Come back to me, who wait and watch for you:— Or come not yet, for it is over then, And long it is before you come again, So far between my pleasures are and few. While, when you come not, what I do I do Thinking “Now when he comes,” my sweetest when: For one man is my world of all the men This wide world holds; O love, my world is you. Howbeit, to meet you grows almost a pang Because the pang of parting comes so soon; My hope hangs waning, waxing, like a moon Between the heavenly days on which we meet: Ah me, but where are now the songs I sang When life was sweet because you call’d them sweet?

Winona Ryder, Christina Ricci and Parker Posey @ Marc Jacobs Spring 2014.

You’re just a dead person who isn’t dead yet.

My life is like a music-hall, Where, in the impotence of rage, Chained by enchantment to my stall, I see myself upon the stage Dance to amuse a music-hall. ‘Tis I that smoke this cigarette, Lounge here, and laugh for vacancy, And watch the dancers turn; and yet It is my very self I see Across the cloudy cigarette. My very self that turns and trips, Painted, pathetically gay, An empty song upon the lips In make-believe of holiday: I, I, this thing that turns and trips! The light flares in the music-hall, The light, the sound, that weary us; Hour follows hour, I count them all, Lagging, and loud, and riotous: My life is like a music-hall.