a beautiful lie
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I saw her first, alongside her mother,
My mind roved at the sight of her beauty,
The last memory I have left of her,
Was the first smile she ever gave me:
I saw her, and said not a word
Dear Gatsby, When I look at you I see yellow, but mostly black. When the fireflies fly The ladies sway to and fro’. How long have you wondered? Through the big lights. The perilous carriage. Unlike the past we no longer adjourn the future.
Beautiful.What is the definition of beauty?Is a picture worth a thousand words, or does it only tell one story?Why does a frame mean more than the writings of a human heart?
