I'm just another girl with rose-tinted glasses and star-dusted daydreams. I weave thoughts and visions into words with spatterings of ink on paper and scratches and bruises on skin from gripping pens too tightly. My hands cramp from [too much] typing, my eyes burn from [too much] reading, and my entirety hurts from [too much] feeling.
Red sky at night, sailor's delight.
Red sky at morning, sailors take warning.
There's no such thing as "too much".
Or perhaps there is. There can be too much of a good thing, it is not impossible, that is why it's called "too much"
"Write drunk, edit sober."
~ Ernest Hemingway ~
I'm the girl with milk-and-honey skin, the girl with amber-chocolate-green eyes that can't or won't pick a colour to stick to. I'm the girl with too-loud laughter that echoes through a completely-full theatre during East End productions of things like Wicked. The girl with the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheekbones, who smiles and cries and feels.
"Genius is another word for magic, and the whole point of magic is that it is inexplicable."
~ Dame Margot Fonteyn ~
(Prima Ballerina Assoluta)
I'm the girl who drinks whisky and wine to focus, and who dances until her feet should hurt…then keeps going. I'll take your kisses and swallow them whole, let them fill me to bursting-point, then breathe them into words and music, and laughter and more dancing. Thoughts are the lifeblood that I drown and swim in, and they bleed into everything that they can; they never make sense, but they always make perfect [non-]sense.