Follow - Write - Create

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We write to taste life twice: in the moment and in retrospection.

Follow Me Written By

Anais Nin

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Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.

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The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was the miracle.

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April 21, 2024

The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was the miracle.

Previous

April 21, 2024

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.

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