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Thursday, January 01, 2004

Tuscany was made for lovers of both life and romance; rustic villas, fields of wild flowers, busy market places, and its trusting simplicity in Mary. It promises no life-long romance, but even nature is passionate in its calling: the raging storms and thundering rain does nothing to still the intense craving for Love; does nothing to appease the hungry yearning for that orange sunset in a city seemingly yellowed by archaic history and architecture; beauty beyond this sunlit truth of happiness grows in those who choose to embrace their instinctive desires. Who shall judge her in her quest for Love, even if it means finding it while immersing herself in the fountain where streams and rivullets of water arouse the sensuality of living and breathing? Who shall judge her glowing desire to be made acquainted with the natural beauty of which so many of us forsake and shun because of morality's sakes? Ah, Tuscany... and this i saw through the magical eyes of a writer looking for Love.

She has found It today it seems. What more could one want than to spend the New Year's with a special someone despite the seemingly queer unfamiliarity because of their brief new-found acquaintance? Time is not a measure of its passing, nor of its reason for Love. I chanced upon a White Rose five days back, and never have i known of such a quiet immediate attraction. i think ive fallen. for him. and this is something special; there is something exquisitely beautiful about him; his brilliant simplicity takes me beyond any previous superficial interest that used to draw me to common crowds and deceptive charm masters. T says its funny how i wished for someone for Christmas and now ive got someone. a little late this present then, but better late than never. -smiles-

To You: thank you once more for the beautiful night. Purple-blue lights and black marble may have enthralled me immensely, but you my dear, you'r something so precious altogether; you make me a better person, and you make me happy. =)