Horror and beauty
Horror and beauty, horror and beauty…
I have told you so many stories about my blue velvet-like village darling. I have talked to you about so many things that have happened here and I have told you about the haute couture, about the men and women who have come here; about the gypsy hoarders who passed through these streets and the circus found under the mirrored glass tent.
What I have not told you is the first thing I thought when I first came here. Back then I was worn down, tired from trying to keep up with the time on the clock, weary of the world brimming with shoulds and musts. I remember it was dark, except for the light of the moon; I remember the smell of Baker’s gingerbread beasts and the knowledge that time here was nowhere to be found.
I hope, finally, to have a niche where I can safely look upon the world’s horror and beauty.
It was then they I said — “I hope, finally, to have a niche where I can safely look upon the world’s horror and beauty*” before I walked, for the first time, on the cobble stone streets of the village.
Story credits: *Quote via Vanity Fair; Image via Vogue Nippon.