Dear Diary
It is my month - the month of Fire, diamonds and well, hopefully, fulfilled desires.
I cannot foresee the upcoming weeks and what they may entail, but I know I will be a bee again, after all this long breaks and vacations.
Giftswise, there were Christian Dior, Givenchy, Lancome, Chanel, Calvin Klein, Swaroskvi, Vichy and more to come. I love you my friends and family- thank you for remembering.
I went for a lovely holiday (note: no raw seafood and snow mountains no thanks to quakes, tsunamis and nuclear infection; and no shopping or tea sipping in mountain tea huts) at a beach resort. It was generally enjoyable - late nights, candlelit rooms, lazing by the poolside or beachfront reading books or magazines, getting a healthy tan, pampered by massages and spas, eating seafood at stilted restaurants, ordering room service, and you'll never guess what - I learned how to swim. Yes, the latter, which has been the bane of my existence, and after running through two coaches, I have more or less given up any possible affairs with the waters. Mon beau has taught me how to swim - without having to duck my entire head underwater, and I had so much fun I was reluctant to leave the pool.
I do miss the quietness of the place, the slow pace of life, and watching sunlight reflections on the seas that made them look like diamonds afloat the blue waters. Beauteous.
More book ideas. Less time. More fun for me, though.
I love Escapism with a passion. With it, there is no need for me to reside amongst the pains of everyday's reality, there is no need to face the things we covet but could never attain, no need to worry about the troubles we face. With it, we can be anyone we want to be, do anything we yearn to do, even, be anyone we wish we could be, living the ideal life we wish we were bestowed.
Escapism can be in the form of losing ourselves in movies, novels, or our own writings, it may also come in the form of strong imagination. I actually have a Blog for my muses, these seemingly hidden alter egos that I escape into. Far away from this world...
Some people would always wonder, whats so bad about reality? Why can we not count our blessings?
I do, really I do count them. Just that, it doesnt hurt to want more.
The night unfolds,
Robbing my mind of sane thresholds,
And the Angel stepped -
Was it the Demon who'd tripped? -
Upon my dreams so dark,
Never to be woken by the larks.
Smiles upon closed lips,
Dusts of dreams upon shut lids;
Somewhere in the map of my heart,
I drew upon fiery hearths
Somewhere, reachable within my grasp,
Dissolving into coldness, as frost.
The white-clad ballerinas dancing the dream
Slip and fall from the beams
Of light, From grace, like angels from Sins
Upon the stage of dreams that burn,
Bringing pains of fiery icyness; or icy hotness,
Me wishing to be woken from this mess.
(C) copyright 2011 Bianca
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