Nocturne Op. 9, No. 2 in E-flat Major, Composed by Chopin, Performed by Harald Vetter
i’m learning this on the piano now (~:
mhh perhaps. i like friends
Pull me in close
A long time ago in that big yellow room with vaulted ceilings, she hung all those Georgia O Keeffe paintings, and in the summer when the afternoon sun came whistling through I would sit and watch each paint stroke of the poppies light up. Every grain of red and speckle of brown smaller than the dust in the air macerated my eyes. Sometimes you would watch me staring, and told me if I thought hard enough, I could be inside of that painting. I could be one, or I could be the whole million of each black seed. I could be the red petals and the different values woven underneath. You told me that once I could achieve this, I could be a dangerous person. Because no matter where I was, no matter how scared or sad, I could always escape into something beautiful. I could always become a poppy, or one of the sparrows outside the barn. I could always use that beautiful thing in reverse. You said if I could become something, it could become me. So every time I’m sad, I’ll pull that poppy out into my palm, and stroke the blush pedals, smell the tang of life, the perfume misting from something just as alive as me. And sometimes I’m so homesick for someone I know you can not be. But every summer, somewhere, those same poppies emerge from soft soil, grow, and bloom.
JFK Blows The Whistle on Secret Societies
“Man will be what he is born to be”