i'm thinking about charlotte brontë spending her last years editing and publishing her sisters' writings and about christopher tolkien dedicating his life to the protection and meticulous reconstruction his father's life's work and about johanna van gogh publishing the letters between vincent and theo that would propel vincent van gogh into fame because she knew how much her husband had loved his brother, and about how so often art isn't just a reflection of the artist's mind and skills but a testament to the fact that they were loved
My sister just quoted this post at me over dinner bc it was discussed in her philosophy class & I can't even smugly inform her of its authorship. Due to the mindhunter yaoi state of my most recent blog history.
