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Showing posts from February, 2009

“So we grew together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, But yet an union in partition.”

The things that are rosy cherry colored are always pleasant. This color, if a person, would be that person who, "had a certain air of simplicity and bore herself like a girl; in the eyes of a Parisian, that artless grace, full of innocence and vivacity, might even have suggested ideas of a
mildly passionate nature." -Stendhal Le Rouge et le Noir



1. minato2.{Found} 3.{found}4. {found}
clat⋅ter/ˈklætər/Show Spelled Pronunciation[klat-er]Show IPA Pronunciation
–verb (used without object)
1.to make a loud, rattling sound, as that produced by hard objects striking rapidly one against the other: The shutters clattered in the wind. 2.to move rapidly with such a sound: The iron-wheeled cart clattered down the street. 3.to talk fast and noisily; chatter: They clattered on and on about their children. –verb (used with object)
4.to cause to clatter: clattering the pots and pans in the sink. –noun
5.a rattling noise or series of rattling noises: The stagecoach made a terrible clatter going over the wooden bridge. 6.noisy disturbance; din; racket.7.noisy talk; din of voices: They had to shout over the clatter at the cocktail party. 8.idle talk; gossip.

Brume sur le lac du Bourget

It's been raining for a week now in San Diego. It's odd because the rain here doesn't come with thunder or lighting. It's a very still rain. I have been studying a French poem called Le Lac by Alphonse de Lamartine and it nails the emotions that accompany an impending deployment. The closer I get to Jason's deployment, the more time is fleeting. That doesn't mean depression always follows. Instead it means things feel more essential, bolder, more in depth.

So today looks like the images above:
And it feels like this:
The Lake
And thus, forever driven towards new shores,Swept into eternal night without return,
Will we never, for even one day, drop anchor
On time's vast ocean?
O Lake! Only a year has now gone by,
And to these dear waves she would have seen again,
Look! I'm returning alone to rest on the very work
Where you saw her rest!

Then as now, you rumbled under these great rocks;
Then as now, you broke against their torn flanks;
The wind hurling the foam from…
{found}


{found}

I still haven't gotten rid of the pink and gray bag from Ann Taylor. I'm keeping all of the thank you notes and address lists and pens for the wedding in it simply because I don't want to throw it away. The color combination reminds me of these things;

Chanel Mademoiselle parfum, stationary, and peonies.