22 Haziran 2022, Çarşamba
saat: 20:13
“I dreamt that she sat by my head, tenderly ruffling my hair with her fingers, playing the melody of her touch. I looked at her face and struggled with my tears, till the agony of unspoken words burst my sleep like a bubble. I sat up and saw the glow of the Milky Way above my window, like a world of silence on fire, and I wondered if at this moment she had a dream that rhymed with mine.”
— Rabindranath Tagore, Lover’s Gifts XXVIII: I Dreamt
There is so much to write and no time to tell all the stories. I just woke up wondering, as usual: was it the experience that created the weird emotional defense mechanism, or did the preexisting defense mechanism cause the destruction of the relationship? isn’t it fun to think about all the things that you will Never Ever Know about your own psyche??
"Diaries are very futile. I must be all dream or all deed. It is quite impossible for me to express any of the beauty I feel to half the degree I feel it; and yet it is a great pleasure to seize an impression and lock it up in words: you feel as if you had it safe forever."
- Wallace Stevens, Letters of Wallace Stevens (Published December 24th 1996 by University of California Press, first published 1966)
