Dates spent studying. Too much studying, too much work to do. See each other bent over in concentration, a million thoughts running through their mind. Sneak glances at each other in between paragraphs. Know that they are mentally sifting through what is right and accurate, then typing it feverishly into their word documents before that moment of inspiration slips away. Flip through books, complain about the stress, put your hand on the other’s for comfort, playfully entwine your legs under the table while keeping a poker face. Go for a toilet break then return to see a cute message on your laptop screen, complimenting, above all else, your intellect.
Walk along the river at night. Marvel at the pretty lights that make up our urban civilization, grand sights that signify our success and our wealth. Wonder out loud how exploitation can produce such beauty, so much so it aches to be surrounded by it all. Talk about capitalism, is it really that bad? But people seem so happy. Ponder about what the problem is, is it leadership or bureaucracy? Play with thoughts and ideas, seek a greater truth perhaps too far away from our grasp, too complex for our comprehension. No, utopia is not possible. Sill, I don’t need utopia to know that the night cannot possibly be prettier than it was then.
People watch, point out others’ idiosyncrasies. Make up cute stories about couples we pass, thinking up bizarre histories and conversations they had and would be having. I’ll pull you along with my wanderlust and tug you to place after place, seeing them not for what they are but for what they could be, struck dumb at how it all does not seem real and yet it is. I’ll ask myself why it is I feel so light, realising that it’s because I’m no longer dragging with me the weight of my unfulfilled dreams. We’ll seek a spot where we can be alone, crossing bridges, opening glass doors, up and down escalators where you sneak kisses when no one’s looking.
Go to the historic district. Bask in the sweat and tears of generations past, now set up in black statuettes and tiny photo exhibits on the walls. Stop at every single one and figure out what the people were doing, how were they feeling way back then? Hug me from behind whenever we stop to read every word describing the pictures, because it’s late and no one else is around, and we’re the only ones wanting to savour every piece of knowledge given to us, making sure we didn’t miss out on a single one. Search for the museum only to sigh in disappointment that it’s closed, then head to an open square where we can sit in the dark.
I will be lost for words when you hold me. I return only a smile when my mind fails to generate the coherent thoughts that always come to me so naturally. The world will melt away and in that moment, when everything and everyone else seems shrinks into a momentary oblivion, it will just be us.
— Les Amants du Pont Neuf
do you think stars struggle
with light, with nuclear power
fission, fusion, life and death
supernova, nebula, rebirth
we personify everything
the moon is just the moon
the sun does not care
and it’s okay
— Unknown (via drapetomania)
Did you spend all your time gazing at strangers swallowing down words hoping they’d love you because of your eyes alone? Like maybe if you blinked hard enough in their direction they’d feel your heart beating loud under all those layers of cardigan saying ‘please look my way and don’t ever look away.’
Baby, who taught you to be quiet? Don’t you realise that sometimes you have to unwind your arms from around yourself and speak loud enough for someone to be able to hear you?"
— Azra.T “silence is not always golden” (via 5000letters)