𝑀𝑦 𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝐽𝑜𝑐𝑒𝑙𝑦𝑛, 𝐼𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒

𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔞 𝔯𝔲𝔩𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔴 𝔦𝔰 𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔫, 𝔰𝔪𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔬𝔦𝔩 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔡'𝔰 𝔟𝔬𝔶, 𝔬𝔥 𝔩𝔢𝔦-𝔬𝔥 𝔩𝔞𝔦-𝔬𝔥 𝔏𝔬𝔯𝔡 ⋆｡˚♬ﾟ. ㅤ

"People. People. Endless noise. And I am so tired. And I would like to sleep under trees; red ones, blue ones, swirling passionate ones"

― Alfred Stieglitz, My Faraway One: Selected Letters of Georgia O'Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz

𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭, 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴, 𝘰'𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭, 𝘈 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘯, 𝘢 𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳, 𝘈 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱, 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.

—Unknown author, The Last Unicorn (inspired by Peter S. Beagle’s novel)

Lately I've been obsessed with old cinema.

Hi loves ‧｡⋆

.☘︎ ݁ About me: I'm Jacqueline, She/her, 20, Christian girl, CS major, part time water fairy(lol) 🧚🏽‍♂️₊˚.༄

.☘︎ ݁ Current hobbies: Reading, writing, blogging, playing the violin, debating. ⋆.

.☘︎ ݁ What you'll find on this blog: Art, poetry and other stuffs that resonate with me. *:･

.☘︎ ݁ Favorite authors atm: Donna Tart, Sidney Sheldon, Francine Rivers, Chimamanda Adiche. (Still getting into the classics!!). ₊˚₊𓏲

.☘︎ ݁ Current obsession: Pinterest, Tumblr(Obv), Substack, Articles, Video essays, French, poetry, classics, period drama, self education, classical music.₊˚ʚ ₊

.☘︎ ݁My Substack: https://aladyandherquill.substack.com/

"See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance."

—Song of Solomon 2:11-13 (NIV)

—ℝ𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕨 ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕒

hey i saw ur post abt reader’s block and what usually works for me is switching up genres or subgenres :) the further it is from what i usually read, the better honestly

Thank you for the advice, I might give that a try ❤️

-My right brain 🧠.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘋𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘺, 𝘓𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘢𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘶𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘦. 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 𝘐 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵, 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨—𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝖳𝗋𝗎𝗅𝗒 𝖮𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖺

—𝖠 𝗅𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗅𝗅, 𝖩𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖽𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅.