15. Trees and flying insects

...have the most breathtakingly beautiful anatomies nature has graced any organism. The latter, with the exception of Nikki, I'll have to satiate my eyes with Google images and diagrams. The former, howerver...

I Vinushka-swear I will one day take pictures of every tree on campus I feel attracted to, and do what I have so often not done in the past for beauties that moved me so very, very deeply down.


Did you know? All I ever wanted was to draw you, to own you in a way only artists can, to hold a shadow of a split second of you suspended still in infinite time. I wanted to possess that close knowledge of your exact shape and form to be saved and savored for all of eternity, to have that connection no photographer can ever know or experience with you. I wanted my eyes and hand to be the organic camera that never touched but yet knew you more intimately than mirrors ever could. I wanted to learn it, safekeep it, come back to it until I could see you and trace you and mold you out of thin air with my eyes closed.

I had never felt beauty as an emotion before you. I missed the chance to know; I would never now know.

You have probably forgotten by now. Four years ago. That seems to be when my permanent block more or less settled in, when I submitted to a fate of never hardly having the ability to draw comfortably again despite the occasional inspiration and frustration.

I am left with this insane paranoia (and this I swear) of never letting another beauty, no matter how common or insignificant, to ever escape me again. Even if I have to resort to cameras. Even if I lose coherence over language every time I try to think or to phrase this out loud. I still suffer periods of relapse where I feel I can tear my hair out by the fistful, by the incredulous disbelief of how I could have messed up that one chance of the only time we ever talked. Do you remember?

My right brain was yours the first time my eyes ever beheld you. Why did I not realize this then, even to myself?

Is it coincidence?
Is it coincidence? Is two months really the average of how often that gets checked? ...

I become so inarticulate over you, still. It shames me.