Timeless Verses, Fragrant Lines
This piece captures my first encounter with Baudelaire’s Fleurs du mal a while back at Lloyds of Kew Bookshop, London.
By HimanPublished about a year ago • 1 min read
My eyes, drawn to the aged leather’s hue,
Whispers of Baudelaire’s Fleurs du mal ring so true.
My fingers trace the weathered, dusty spine,
Savouring verses that taste divine.
I breathe in deep, the fragrance of each timeless line.
About the Creator
Himan
A displaced writer and translator at heart.
Hope you enjoy my tête-à-tête.
New Normal
There is always a moment — small, quiet, almost forgettable — when the spark stops being a warning and becomes a state. It never looks like a turning point from the outside. It’s not a dramatic shift. It’s not a cinematic beat. It’s a subtle internal click, a recalibration so slight that only someone who has lived this cycle as many times as I have would recognize it.
By Elisa Wontorcik3 days ago in Poets
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