You’ve lost the hope of beauty or allure. You did it to yourself.
Are you finally happy you’ve made yourself more unhappy under the blind guise of hiding from the dark?
You have the places you would love to get lost in for awhile, and be foolish, and be a lover chased by another for awhile… a bright fecund spring stretching into an extended summer …when you’ve already hit your autumn, and are just trying to stay out of the shadow of winter.
Charles-Caïus Renoux (1795 – 1846)
NOCTURNAL LANDSCAPE WITH THE RUINS OF A CHURCH, 1845
I think these things sometimes but mostly it’s futurist thinking. It’s metaphorical rambling and sometimes I just have an endless, youthful, wonderful and ridiculous sense of hope. Go figure.