—Sound Of Music (1965)

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.

"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

𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘥𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘬𝘪𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘭𝘥— 𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘶𝘴. 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘚𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘮 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮. 𝘐'𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘗𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘴, 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, “𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵,” 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭— 𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵. 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴, 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥. 𝘞𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘫𝘰𝘺, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘴.

—A Lady and Her Quill, Journal of Wandering Thoughts

Obsession beats talent every time.

“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”

― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

𝑇𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑑, 𝐴 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑎 𝑏𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑡 𝑠𝘩𝑒’𝑠 𝑙𝑒𝑑. 𝑃𝑢𝑟𝑒-𝘩𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑢𝑛𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟, 𝐻𝑒𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑠𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠, 𝑡𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑔𝘩 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑟.

𝑇𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛, 𝑠𝑜 𝑏𝑜𝑙𝑑, 𝑊𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑎 𝑏𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑛 𝘩𝑎𝑛𝑑, 𝑎 𝘩𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑔𝑜𝑙𝑑. 𝐻𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑏𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑐𝘩 𝑡𝑜 𝘩𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑜𝑟, 𝐴 𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑜’𝑠 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑡, 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒.

—A lady and her quill, Courage Worn in Scarlet and Green

The little orphan girl represented loneliness, sadness, being invisible. Emilia sat at the window as she watched another little girl get adopted—for the fourth time this week. She always wondered if something was wrong with her. She was aware that she was a bit odd. She liked things other kids didn’t. She read books about the stars and whispered to moths at night. She remembered the sound of rain more than the voices of the people who came and went. She wasn’t the kind of child who ran up to visitors with painted smiles and perfect manners. She stayed quiet. Observing. Feeling too much and saying too little. And maybe that was the problem. She tucked a loose curl behind her ear and leaned her forehead against the window. Outside, the world kept moving. Cars passed. Clouds drifted. People chose. But never her. At least not yet.

—A lady and her quill, Life at St. Stephen's Orphanage.