"You are a dreamer to seek what is not to be found here below." But she has been mine. I have possessed that heart, that noble soul, in whose presence I seemed to be more than I really was, because I was all that I could be. Good heavens! did then a single power of my soul remain unexercised? In her presence could I not display, to its full extent, that mysterious feeling with which my heart embraces nature? Was not our intercourse a perpetual web of the finest emotions, of the keenest wit, the varieties of which, even in their very eccentricity, bore the stamp of genius?
The words were for me! She declared, the 13 years old girl put her head into old love savage, she was the scavenger, consumed dead love fleshes, ravenously swallowed love wounds and godly agonies. Durance her entire world swaps off her ground forever caged agonistic to her soul. You never free from these words! You know. She just comes out from a primitive village to a huge big city, embarking into all the were white faced charming snobs, she was alone so dark ugly tall and timid country girl, didn’t know what to do with her dark skin and cohobated oddities. Just so ugly country girl! (Ever since I never suntanned my skin.) All the sky her field and sea so far away. So her confession was reading, music and painting and talking herself. Not that she wanted to do but not much else thing to do; while she could not fit into “sophistication” Thanks to the corded-booted iron gate custardy- no side glance, but a straight head up strict straight forward -- we could only feed; old boring stuffs, classics western literatures, bruised bleeding love songs, wonder why love is so agonizing never happy always bloody painful and deadly!! Winterreise for example you die with so sadness broken heartiness and immense lonesomeness. We learnt these brokenness hearts so young age! Leant to how to be sucker for love and die with love! Some girls are keep up so sucker for love and some never do! Thus we long for lunatic shelter for our tattered souls. I am afraid of these brokenness. I consciously avoid that kind of bareness so far or probably not! I don’t know?! Anyway my youth lots of German love songs inculpated into hermit salvaged delight. What is out come? Me now of course ridicule? Thereby huge space of my own important!
Goethe, he was the little girl salvations, “The Sorrows of Young Werther” O man, she was blown off! Read word by word in the rip caged unrequited love. He was the most romantic man in whole universe in her eyes, she become possessive of him. A devotee of her “he-never-died-for-sure” She memorized his lines, and deeply mourn he wrote these passionate lines to other woman instead of me. And been thinking these words were for me! She believed. When you read the “Roman Elegies,” make you more passionately pissed off so she stop read these one stage. Amazing all these years her “feverish infatuations” to “deep appreciation.” A soul dying for love, you know without love you can not ride the escalated deadly rollercoaster mad trap. But mind you this is my view only. But, however love is not always deadly trap either; it can be the victors'sucker I believe!
