It's called Love ... a feb 14th ish post

Love is a reoccuring topic of conversation. For ages people have taken cracks at depicting it, understanding it, describing it, etc. I think that true romantinc love is such an inefable connection with someone that nothing will be able to fully capture its essence. It can only every be experienced. That being said, here’s my stab at it. In a sort of inverted ekphrastic project, I translated two poems written by Federico Garcia Lorca and took pictures of my two friends who are very cute and in love .

LOVE 

With arrows and wings

A little song about a nascent desire

In the green morning, 

I wanted to be all heart 

heart. 

And in the ripe afternoon. 

I wanted to be all mockingbird. 

Mockingbird. 

(soul, 

turn the color orange, 

soul, 

turn the color of love.) 

In the risen morning, 

I wanted to be me. 

Heart. 

And in the fallen afternoon 

I wanted to be my voice. 

Mockingbird. 

Soul, 

turn the color orange!

Soul, 

turn the color of love!

Poem 1 pg 180

Francesca and Ryan met in college.

They fell in love.

Sores of love 

this light, this fire that devours me, 

this gray landscape that surrounds me,

this pain for only one idea, 

this angst of heaven, world, and time, 

this cry of blood that decorates 

lyre without pulse, a lubricant torch

this weight of the ocean that strikes me

this scorpion that habits my chest,

it’s of love, of a death bed

where without dreams, I dream your presence

In the ruins of my flailing chest. 

And although I search for the summit of your prudence 

it gives your heart, a tended valley 

with hemlocks and passion, a bitter science. 

poem 2 (pg 566)

This is their love.