I've got too much on my mind after what happened this long weekend, beginning with Friday at work, so I'm not in the mood to do a nice fashion blog post. Instead, I humbly offer you this most perfect of quotations from one of love poetry's greats, Pablo Neruda, just as he humbly offered his 100 sonnet cycle to his wife:
"My most beloved wife, I suffered greatly in writing these misnamed 'sonnets,' which pained and cost me dearly; but the joy of offering them to you is vaster than a prairie. When I set myself this task I well knew that along the side of each sonnet, through their elective inclination and elegance, the poets of all times laid out rhymes sounding like silver, crystal or cannonfire. With much modesty, I made these sonnets out of wood; I gave them the sound of this pure and opaque substance, and they must reach your ears thus. As you and I walked through forests and beaches, lost lakes, ashen latitudes, we picked up fragments of wood, of timber exposed to water and the weather. From such soft relics then, with an ax, a blade, a pocketknife, I built these woodworks of love and I raised small houses of 14 boards each, so that your eyes which I adore and sing to, may live in them. With my reasons for love established, I give you this century: sonnets of wood that were only able to arise because you gave them life."