i’ve just turned the last page of the picture of dorian gray. it was an experience, reading this book. and oscar, oscar, oscar wilde: je t’aime, mon ami! i understand why we are compelled to kiss your grave.
“time is jealous of you, and wars against you lilies and your roses” (p. 25).
tonight i am listening to sigur ros, sipping steaming jasmine tea, and absorbing anything beautiful.