“The feeling that something is missing never, ever leaves you—and it can’t, and it shouldn’t, because something is missing. That isn’t of its nature negative. The missing part, the missing past, can be an opening, not a void. It can be an entry as well as an exit. It is the fossil record, the imprint of another life, and although you can never have that life, your fingers trace the space where it might have been, and your fingers learn a kind of Braille.” — Jeanette Winterson
Lesbian moodboard: The Fairytale
Draw closer and belong deeply with me. I quaver an exhale, the far reaching arms of its torrents ever in pursuit. Breathe me in and I will gather you. You, the missing monarch of my heart, the obscured sculpture from my mind’s pedestal, the anchoring touch to my tremulous hand.