An Insult?
Noooooo.
It’s just that you
are beautiful when you are sad.
Take a solemn beast, born into her sadness, faithful to it,
she is ridiculous if she smiles. Her sadness, her sad face, was a parasite to, then
consanguineous with, and eventually has come to embody the beauty it sought to efface.
The tear has become more peaceful than the violence of the smile, and her face, the stillness of which is now beyond all emotion, is fit for
the sculptor’s eternity
the ink of the painter
or the deformed light of the photographer’s lense.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment