The Plush Museum by xorsyst on Flickr.
Georges Méliès in The Living Playing Cards (1905, dir. Georges Méliès) (via)
Theda Bara publicity stills for A Fool There Was (1915)
The way to love anything is to realize that it may be lost.
As the controversy over SlutWalk hits the mainstream media, provoking a larger conversation about sexuality, safety, privilege and rape, I wanted to revisit this “letter to a teen girl”.
Rachel Hills, who blogs at Musings of an Inappropriate Woman, recently posed this…
However far away you, we are apart - I will always love you, because love knows no distance.
Reblog this if you too, love somebody who lives in a different country - or if you’ve fought adversity in your quest to find ‘the one’
I wish I believed this. Makes me think of my last relationship, which was very real, and entirely long-distance, and doomed because of it. It’s been a few months since we ended things, and I do miss him.
Hugs to you for that. :( I found my love in another country and we did the long distance thing, 40 hour bus rides, months and months and months of not seeing each other, even meeting in secret… years of that before he finally was able to move up with me. We made it work. We’re celebrating our tenth year married next summer, and our 16th (I think? Forgive me I’m on day 7 of a wicked awful migraine) year of being together. It can happen.
2719 miles apart and 20 months of long distance. We’re going on 32 months total together.
