When I come over the top of the dune I see the ocean and I feel like I’m seeing it for the first time.
Today it’s blue, straight and simple. Raw blue.
8 is just an infinity symbol the right way up.
Kirsty EagarAm I worried about the future? I don't know. When I think of the word it's like seeing a cavity, a space where a tooth used to be.
Kirsty EagarAnd that's humbling, knowing that your voice can mean so much to another person.
Kirsty EagarI’ve worked out a tattoo – if I had one” says Ryan. I look at what he’s done. He’s got the outline of my hand over his heart and in it he’s written, Her...
Kirsty EagarTag: raw-blue
But of course when you've got it bad for somebody, you aren't really sane. You're a stalker and a groupie combined, and you do things even you don't want to try and understand.
Kirsty EagarThis is what I love about life. The UP. You can be completely down and out, and in the next you feel like you're flying, for no reason at all.
Kirsty EagarTag: life laine-s-fave
You cant rely on anybody being around for you, because things change.
Kirsty EagarTag: change trust laine-s-fave
It's hard to explain, but it's related to me know that for every moment of beauty this place gives me, I probably miss a thousand more. And I want them all. I swear I'd live on the dunes if I could. I was born out of my time. I should have been around during the end of the eighteenth century, when the Romantic Era kicked off, and writers and artists were obsessed with nature: the ocean, the mountains, the sky. And they believed in following their own path, experimenting, not blindly obeying rules.
I found a quote by Henry David Thoreau- "I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life"...It made me cry. Urgency is so beautiful.
He's kissing me, quick desperate kisses, like I'm something he needs to live; and I'm kissing him back, crazy with the ache I feel for him, trying to kiss him better, trying to fix him. I'm touching his face, feeling the roughness of his beard, the wet of his tears, feeling the tremors passing through his body, hearing his ragged breathing. And each kiss is a failure. A failed attempt to escape from all that's happening. And I only know this when he slows, drawing it out, letting me taste regret, letting things linger. He pulls away, and I'm saying "Don't, don't, don't", trying to bring him back, kissing his face. But I've lost him.
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