I know this feeling.
|‘For my dearest darling, treasured, cherished Agatha whom I|
worship. With respect, adoration, admiration, kisses, gratitude, best
wishes, and love from Z to A.’
The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014)
I felt this way after I mowed my amour’s lawn, and she got home just before I left. Or to slightly mis-quote John Updike’s “Playing With Dynamite”:
“When had he ceased to fear death—or, so to say, to grasp it? The moment
was as clear in his mind as a black-and-white striped gate at a border
crossing: the moment when he first slept with [her].”
It is a beautiful feeling. It is terrifying. It is all the Endless, wrapped into one fragile mortal frame.
And damn it, if that image above doesn’t capture it perfectly.
The image is via the beautiful Tech Noir blog.