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Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov / It's Such A Beautiful Day, 2012/ The Light Between Oceans, 2016 / Virgina Woolf, from a letter to Vita Sackville-West / The Little Prince, 2015 / Mohammad Zahir, in a letter to T.M. 2019
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VIOLENT DELIGHTS. these violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder which, as they kiss, consume
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( and I could go anywhere I want. . .
. . .anywhere I want, just not home )
TO SAN, SWALLOWING THE SUN was easy. Easy but painful. The sun burnt some of her inside flesh without her consent, its light particles mixed with her blood her body forever warm melting away any cold. Her heart painted gold with light rays shining through the spaces in her ribcage, the small birthmark of a sun glued to her forehead. Her nose unforgetful of the stench of melting wax and by the time she was four, she could hold the sun in the palm of her hands.
She didn't look it at first but she was a burning girl with no control over the flames holding her in a chokehold. Tears would gather in her eyes, her feet buried in cinders, the flames roaring in her ears like starving lions ready to devour her whole. She was burning, preparing to be burnt.
