Here: Scott Schuman and his long time girlfriend Garance Dore. In various places. I have written, on here, about them more than once. Separately. And as a couple. The thing is, they are just a couple. A couple of people that happen to love each other. I mean, clearly, in every picture above; there is a conversation going on. Lovey. Serious. Elation. Commitment. Sunshine. Rain. Casual. Dressy. Posed. Candid. Choice. Passion. Vulnerability. All the things that a relationship consists of.
Because, after one learns to live alone. Learns to love themselves, it becomes peaceful inside. Quiet. The static gets drowned out.
Or at least, that's what they say.
Every day that passes.....I come to a deeper understanding of 'the quiet'. And I am blessed and thankful for all things that help me do that.
But mostly, I'm just grateful for all the forms of love that I experience every single day. And lately, it has felt like a waterfall. Bounding. But slow. Gentle. The way summer nights lull you into a romance about seasons. You can't really quantify it, when it happens. But it happens. And you swear, you were there. Every minute. But can't quite define the spotlight of change.
'Says the poet to the moonlight
Says the singer to the song' - Ani DiFranco
And as my head rests
My eyes soften
My tensions melt
And I acknowledge my past
Like someone I used to know
Respectfully declining interview
As I believe
The tabloids of my memories have said enough
Instead, I will hold myself upright
And take another step
On a deeper level to my sensibilities
To the future that hasn't happened yet
To the woman I believe I was born to be
Someone who cradles a lifetime of beings by showing love
Listening to hearts
Sharing my sadness by way of understanding and compassion
And falling in love with as many things possible
That's the only thing that matters in this world.
The only thing.
Has felt so soothing and necessary
And shutting my mouth when I have nothing nice to say
For their advice
And hearing my own
Cause, I've experienced a few things in this life
And I am the only one who knows what's best for me
Believing the good in people
Instead of anticipating the bad
Was like unringing a bell
And, is still, a constant conversation within
The things that define me
Are as follows:
Art is the paramount expression of self
I love people's idiosyncrasies
I look up.....a lot. Because, the sky breathes beautific sights
The space between sleep and awake is where your true wants and needs exist
These days, my tears are made of life not loss
Landscape carries the whispers of the people before her that have fought to make right
Shamelessness is where self respect begins
Laughter heals wounds
Structure speaks in the form of story
Where your eyes dance when examining a person, place or thing means more than you think
A good sandwich is always a good idea and must include cheese
Don't be afraid of the sound of your own voice. It resonates with your swansong.
Road trips, car rides, for no reason, is where my heart works through her doubts
Is the key to the door inside
Conversations, without words, are louder than bombs
Conversations about nothing, mean everything
Stream of consciousness leads me to have one eye on the exit plan
My thoughts wander and pause.....
Lists upon lists
Pros and cons
Dreaming up new adventures
Wherein, my heart may sing quietly
What she has been crafting
Over a young lifetime
31 times around the sun
And she feels like Icarus
Afraid to say 'No'
For fear that she may miss something
Inside the moments that cannot be defined or anticipated
That make me feel like the light bulb never existed
That make me feel like an innocent again
As if youth was recaptured
All the creams
All the potions
All that 'they' told me
And the only linger
My regrets of experience
The kind of laughter that screams of Spring
The kind of happiness that can only be felt
And not quantified
And after the battle
Left in the fields
Left in the forest
Left under the moonlight
Is the silent statement
All the crows on the power lines shake their beaks
Croaking at me
And the electricity on my skin
Scoffs and prevails over any generator
Who burn the manual
I poured the gasoline over the ink stained pages
I light the match
Here we have Dudley O'Shaughnessy showcased in a video captured by Sharif Hamza, stunningly. Dudley is an ex-boxer turned model and was featured in a Rihanna video. I think it's his bone structure mostly that does it for me. His piercing eyes don't hurt either.
But, what I am curious about is - what is it about boxing that is so romantic? Is it the 'fight' that attracts me to this sport? And I use the term loosely. The physical hardships that ones body must undergo in order to be capable of sustaining blow after blow. Unlearning natural movements. All of it. It's a commitment to endure.
Regardless....feast your eyes on some pictures and small cinema jacked from NOWNESS.
The last picture is Ali. Mama said, knock you out. <3
“They really are the most striking creatures,” says Weber. “They all have this incredible, breath-taking energy and inexplicable mystery. The noise they make is completely fascinating, beautiful, unlike anything you’ve ever heard before.”
I thought this little piece of cinema appropriate for the pending onslaught of winter conditions that have not yet hit Montreal......it's such a romantic little excerpt.
I love that misty sparkle that comes off the wind blown heaps of snow. It's really what magic feels like.
Thank you NOWNESS. <3
There are times
When I feel awake
In a moment
In a month
In the face of love
In my heart
And it seems like it will last forever
Or maybe that's just my hope
And the shocking part, is that
I have that hope
That the very thing that sustains me
In turn, perils me
It breaks my heart
That I cannot, somehow, curb my cynical mind
I cannot stop what is coming
Like the air that rushes into my lungs
When I throw my head back in pleasure
In a moment of laughter
In the presence of a lover
In the face of purity
In the place where the connection is undeniable
But, I guess
The fog rolls down the mountains
After the storm
What my heart feels
Or what it doesn't
Haste screams her romantic shrill into the cockels of my heart
Pleading for me to listen
And what plays in the background of my mind
Is glorious, Prague rock guitar sounds
And the line that continues to cancerously grow:
'Expectation is the father of disappointment'