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jclikes2read 's review for:
The Palace of Eros
by Caro De Robertis
I enjoyed every second of this. What really blew my mind was,
“
I would be the guardian of the soul. The truths of souls. Like mine. Like yours. I wanted to reshape the world in hopes there would be a future place in which you could exist . You to whom I have been telling this story. My kin. My far away descendant. My beloved instigator of songs and pleasures and truths, not yet named of welcomed by the laws of god and men . You who refract the sun light in new ways through the secret prisms of your joy . You who might see a flash of yourself in my story with Eros. You who were born perfect, yet outside the rules of whatever temples over see your times. You whose desire shatters the cage. You born hundreds or thousands of years from this moment by the sea. You who might have loved me, if you could’ve known me. Whom I already love, even though I cannot see your face. For I feel your beauty,in the timeless, boundless, dark. You are exquisite. Completely yourself. Beloved. Friend. Utterly free. I dream that your freedom might inscribe new triumphs into the souls of those who came hundreds or thousands of years before. In a glowing a lash through time. because we, the old ones envisioned the dance of you. Willed it to flourish. Fevered with passion for a world where you could be. I wonder whether I’m part of the cycle in ways I’ll never know. Whether hundreds, or even thousands, of years before my birth, a young woman dreamed of my existence. Longed for me to come into the world. Whether that longing helped give rise to me and to my winding, transgressive human path. And whether that longing is twined into mine, now, for you. I want so much to believe you will exist. I want so much to reach across time for you. I will do it. I’ll never stop trying. “
“
I would be the guardian of the soul. The truths of souls. Like mine. Like yours. I wanted to reshape the world in hopes there would be a future place in which you could exist . You to whom I have been telling this story. My kin. My far away descendant. My beloved instigator of songs and pleasures and truths, not yet named of welcomed by the laws of god and men . You who refract the sun light in new ways through the secret prisms of your joy . You who might see a flash of yourself in my story with Eros. You who were born perfect, yet outside the rules of whatever temples over see your times. You whose desire shatters the cage. You born hundreds or thousands of years from this moment by the sea. You who might have loved me, if you could’ve known me. Whom I already love, even though I cannot see your face. For I feel your beauty,in the timeless, boundless, dark. You are exquisite. Completely yourself. Beloved. Friend. Utterly free. I dream that your freedom might inscribe new triumphs into the souls of those who came hundreds or thousands of years before. In a glowing a lash through time. because we, the old ones envisioned the dance of you. Willed it to flourish. Fevered with passion for a world where you could be. I wonder whether I’m part of the cycle in ways I’ll never know. Whether hundreds, or even thousands, of years before my birth, a young woman dreamed of my existence. Longed for me to come into the world. Whether that longing helped give rise to me and to my winding, transgressive human path. And whether that longing is twined into mine, now, for you. I want so much to believe you will exist. I want so much to reach across time for you. I will do it. I’ll never stop trying. “