i'm being haunted by a pair of slanting eyes.
till now, i have never truly understood the meaning of imperfect beauty. never in my experience of reading poetry and literature have i ever been able to understand how being imperfect can almost be necessary in order to be beautiful. (not even in those strange sculptures..? they're beautiful, but it simply is beauty in imperfection. the imperfection does not make the beauty.. hmmm...) after all, the greeks believed that beauty was found in perfection. and havent i been raised in a culture that appears to agree with that?
i could not understand what drew me to such a face. neither could i understand why i kept wanting to see what fascinated me so, why i could not get it out of my mind. why i kept wanting to look at those eyes.
slanted, of the asian variety. not slitted, but not wide-open. eyes that were intense, and striking.
i look a little closer, and i notice that the eyes are not proportionate: one is slightly narrower than the other. there. imperfection.
strangely, it does nothing to detach from the beauty of the face. that very imperfection fits into place perfectly, like jagged pieces of a puzzle that fit together to make a hauntingly striking picture. and i dont know what it is about those eyes that draw me. the drooping eyelid of one that hints at secrets forever hidden, and the cold composure of the other, no matter the expression on the face they belong to. the heavy-lidded gaze that studies the world around them, but never reveals what goes on behind them.
the masculinity that peeps out from behind features too feminine to be male. the aura of fragility that belies the toughness of a warrior.
a tantalizing illusion of delicacy...
what is it about androgynous characters that fascinate me so?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment