How, or when, or from where.

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose or topaz,

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms,

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers.

Thanks to your love a certain fragrance,

risen darkly from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride,

so I love you because I know no other way than this:

where "I" does not exist, nor "you,"

So close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

So close that your eyes close and I fall asleep.

-Pablo Neruda

Image: Source

Heart cleanser.

"He must so cleanse his heart that no remnant of either love or hate may linger therein, lest that love blindly incline him to error, or that hate repel him away from the truth.."

Gleanings from the Writings of Baha'u'llah, CXXV

About me, about you.

On reading someone's "About me" section, I came across this:

"Nobody knows anything about you. You're like this normal person and heaps of fun and we all feel like we know you, but then when we think about it we're like 'what does she do?' and 'who does she sleep with?' and 'where does she go when she disappears?'

And suddenly we realise you're a mystery."

For some reason, it resonates.

In other news, I found a reason to love my iphone: the Hipsmatic App.

It can take photos like this:

Months after discarding my trusty old Nokia, tonight I decided to go through it and look for anything on there worth keeping. I came across a note saying "Wim mertens". I could only assume this was something music-oriented but I had no recollection of why/where this had come, from but thanks for technology, more specifically youtube, I was able to solve my own mini-mystery: