Tuesday, 11 October 2011

A draught of sunshine (John Keats)

.I've taken these pictures the day before Quentin went back to Belgium. It was still super hot, and I find myself missing and craving already the feeling of the burning sun on my back! I wish it would be September all year round. There is nothing better than basking in the sun without burning or melting, just making the most of the sun rays while taking long walks (or bicycle rides, a pleasure we just recently re-discovered!) in the countryside. I understand why most of Italians were so relieved when the temperatures fell (not that they are not complaining already about the cold...), with the heath wave being so long and all, but honestly (selfishly) I couldn't have cared less. 30 degrees make me happy. Always.
.Yes, those shoes and that bag again. On the one hand it's because I obviously don't travel with my whole wardrobe with me, but on the other hand, those shoes are just so comfy and cute, and that bag practically goes with everything! Besides, here's my lovely little Casio in action. Took me a while to figure how to get the settings right, but that's probably cos I'm dumb (and I was watching Dawson's Creek while doing it, ehm.). I've been asking everyone to ask me what time it is, such a show off.
.I had promised myself that after my E.L.F. and my Bottega Verde shopping sprees I would stop buying make up for a while (let's say, a couple of years?). That's why I just got myself some brand new Kiko goodies. I'm a sucker for special offers and discounts.
.I am totally engrossed with the book on English literature I was offered. I re-discovered my love for Shelley, Coleridge, Wordsworth and obviously the misters Keats and Byron. I was certainly born in the wrong century (tho I don't know how long I would have lasted without Ibuprofene and Paracetamol...). Here's one of my favorite Keats poems; hope it touches you as much as it touches me.

A draught of sunshine

Hence Burgundy, Claret, and Port, 

Away with old Hock and madeira, 
Too earthly ye are for my sport; 
There's a beverage brighter and clearer. 
Instead of a piriful rummer, 
My wine overbrims a whole summer; 
My bowl is the sky, 
And I drink at my eye, 
Till I feel in the brain 
A Delphian pain - 
Then follow, my Caius! then follow: 
On the green of the hill 
We will drink our fill 
Of golden sunshine, 
Till our brains intertwine 
With the glory and grace of Apollo! 
God of the Meridian, 
And of the East and West, 
To thee my soul is flown, 
And my body is earthward press'd. - 
It is an awful mission, 
A terrible division; 
And leaves a gulph austere 
To be fill'd with worldly fear. 
Aye, when the soul is fled 
To high above our head, 
Affrighted do we gaze 
After its airy maze, 
As doth a mother wild, 
When her young infant child 
Is in an eagle's claws - 
And is not this the cause 
Of madness? - God of Song, 
Thou bearest me along 
Through sights I scarce can bear: 
O let me, let me share 
With the hot lyre and thee, 
The staid Philosophy. 
Temper my lonely hours, 
And let me see thy bowers 
More unalarm'd! 

John Keats

I was wearing:
H&M basic t-shirt,
Meltin'Pot jeans,
New Look brogues,
Primark satchel bag,
Vintage sunglasses.