Hey, do you know that feeling of hitching up a long skirt so you don’t fall on your face when walking upstairs, and then you immediately become a wretched yet resolute Jane Austen character? It’s a universal thing, right?
It’s like resting a laundry basket against your hip and suddenly you’re a long-suffering peasant woman, wondering if you’ll survive the winter.
a shawl wrapped around the shoulders and you’re wandering the moors in a Brönte novel, feeling melancholic
Looking out the window at the rain and you’re a love-stricken newlywed wondering when your husband will return from the war.
Long skirt billowing behind you while to go down the stairs, you’re a proper Lady in a flowing ball gown being introduced at a fancy social function.
Hair blowing in the wind and suddenly you’re hovering on a cliff by the sea, staring out into the waves and praying your merchant husband will return from his voyage across the ocean
Hood up against the rain and wind and you’re a medieval abbess defying the weather and travelling on foot with your people to find a place to establish a new community.
Wiping your hands on your apron and you’re an 18th century kitchen girl rushing to let in the delivery boy you secretly love.
“Look at how unlikely our meeting was. Look at the vastness of the universe encompassing all the things we don’t know and the things we think we know. Look at me, at us, together – here and now. Isn’t this some form of a miracle?”
“This is happening.
I am here, and I am looking at her,
And she is so beautiful.
I can see it,
This one moment when you know you’re not a sad story.
You are alive,
and you stand up and see the lights on the buildings and everything that makes you wonder.
And you’re listening to that song,
and that drive with the people you love most in this world.
And in this moment I swear,
we are infinite.”
