My-dearest-giulia - GIULIA

with my papers not proofread and my manuscripts unfinished, i thread on through the world

I’m so sorry that I haven’t been able to post lately, but I’ve just been very busy. For the last two weeks, I’ve had a summer course at a *certain British university*, and now I’m in Italy to visit my family and friends (while also taking French classes in the mornings). Between all that and the insane heat in Europe, I’ve been completely exhausted every night. I’ll try to post more, darlings (aka the two people who like my posts)!

carpe noctem

Why are all the best things I write just flowers and vanilla and sunlight? Honestly, I’ve detected a distinct theme. I’m not sure if I’m complaining. I do like flowers and vanilla and sunlight, and I do enjoy writing different types of light, especially that honey-gold, early-morning sunlight. I just wish I could be that good at writing anything else.

Eyes

Eyes of flowing honey,

eyes of swirling ocean.

Is there really so much of a difference?

Both marred with scars,

painfully etched in over the years by family and friends and society itself.

A father filled with rage,

a mother who never wanted her.

One desperate to fit in with American society and one forever distancing herself from it.

One knowing nothing about himself and the other knowing everything about the both of them.

Yet, when their eyes meet all the scars seem to smooth over,

the raging sea calms,

the honey travels far from the fearsome bees of its past.

And, when they are inevitably torn apart?

sometimes i read a phrase in a poem or a story or i see the clouds amble in the sky traced by sunlight or i hear a specific combination of notes on a piano and i just get so overwhelmed with a really specific feeling that i can't really name but i know that this feeling is so human and so tender at its core and that i am a tiny little part of a world so delightfully rich with sensations and i exist to experience this very feeling because it stems from the pure human love for coexistence with the world

Love should be easy, like sunshine on a summer day, like peeling oranges. It should be easy, but it isn't.

Some nights I still love the boy I loved when I was 13 even though I never think about him. He wrote me letters every time he missed me and played Panic at the Disco a little too loud. A girl I once held hands with all night told me that a full moon means the sun was happy that day and I still try to make the sun smile every time I look above. And it shouldn't have hurt when I told her I didn't love her anymore, I didn't. But some days I still do.

Love should be easy but it's old photographs, it's love letters that I still keep in a black box by my bedside table. It's puzzles whose pieces don't exist in my memory anymore. Love should be easy. It isn't.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire

Marwan & Khaled Fall 2018 Couture