I just finished reading Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis. I wept bitterly. It was so beautifully written. The story is a dark reworking of the mythic tale of Psyche and Cupid, of which I knew too well. Yet the ending so imaginative and heart breaking, however, lighter than I had anxiously anticipated. It spoke so many things to me--a tumultuous
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Intriguing.
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..if only you knew..
I keep making excuses.. I feel like I need to finish necessary tasks in my life before I succumb...yes.. succumb to leisurely things such as writing..for myself.
Drunk on wine..I bet that was wild, I wish I could see it.
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