3 years…

Today is exactly 3 years since I lost my special Grandmother. It doesn’t really feel like I lost her though. She is part of me or I am part of her. Here is the little note I wrote 3 years ago:
” And it’s extraordinary how the nature of the person you loose, inspires the essence of the grief.
What I really feel in addition to the pain, is the strong desire to celebrate life the way she always did!!!
It’s like that’s the best and most truthful way of saying good bye and admiring the memory of her.
It’s like her spirit bonded with my soul. It saturates me with potential and strong will that loads my heart with desire to embrace the whole world, to Give, to Love and to be Happy as never before…
I think it’s Huge when a person adieus this world, to leave behind the charge and the inspiration of love and joy in a magnitude over- sizing the pain and the sorrow….
Rest in peace Granny, I will keep dancing for you…” E

Red roses at night – these are some old shots that I feel appropriate to post with this note
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When does real love begin?

“When does real love begin?

 

At first it was a fire, eclipses, short circuits, lightning and fireworks; the incense, hammocks, drugs, wines, perfumes; then spasm and honey, fever, fatigue, warmth, currents of liquid fire, feast and orgies; then dreams, visions, candlelight, flowers, pictures; then images out of the past, fairy tales, stories, then pages out of a book, a poem; then laughter, then chastity.

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At what moment does the knife wound sink so deep that the flesh begins to weep with love?

At first power, power, then the wound, and love, and love and fears, and the loss of the self, and the gift, and slavery. At first I ruled, loved less; then more, then slavery. Slavery to his image, his odor, the craving, the hunger, the thirst, the obsession.”
― Anaïs Nin, Fire: From “A Journal of Love” The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1934-1937

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I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me…

“I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls.”
―      Anaïs Nin

Woman, flower, bouquet…

A woman should be like a single flower, not a whole bouquet. Anna Held

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