It's cold outside, but it tastes like summer

De tempo em tempo, a respiração profunda. Ainda aturdida diante da obra importante (ah, a covardia que nos afasta de todo trabalho difícil), empenha-se para elaborar os pespontos, reparar a avaria, refazer a sutura, levantar-se das ruínas. Muita cautela, não se esqueça...

You're in love with ideas, they say. And you know, you know... you can't deny it. Every heartbeat a Greek epic, every whispered word an invocation. What would life be outside this place?
You plunge in warm water, closed eyelids; the weather channel says it's cold, but in here it feels like summertime.

"74

We lay down, and the pain let up.
We embraced, and the pain let go:
No more scalding regrets,
no scorching remorse
that oppressed the soul,
that weighed like a stone on the heart.
You, on top of me, heavy, immense,
and I, feeling so light."

- Vera Pavlova, [We lay down and the pain let up] (in If There is Something to Desire, trans. Steven Seymour)