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Love's Shadow: Nine Crooked Paths

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Lawren Leo

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“I knew exactly when the fever had struck. I had been reading Hamlet in an English class at school. Everyone else stumbled, puzzling over the strange words. Then it had been my turn, and the language had suddenly woken in me, so that my heart and lungs and tongue and throat were on fire. Later, I understood that this was why people spoke of Shakespeare as a god. At the time, I felt like weeping. Somebody had released me from dumbness, from utter isolation. I knew that I could live inside these words, that they would give me a a shape, a shell. I had no idea, then, that I would never play Hamlet…. I’m an actor, and in a good year I earn eleven thousand pounds for dressing up as a carrot.”

ActingStageMediaDramaHumiliationShakespeareActorActressPlaysBardDifficult JobsThe Industry
Book:In a Dark Wood
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“Pay to go inside Neruda's home A body lies there with no dome. But right there in the front hall Lean a fairy against the icy wall. Oh Endless enigmas had the bard! Nice and large and calm backyard Ends In the middle of a rare room Rare portrait of revelishing gloom. Up climbing at the weird snail stair Does make you grasp for some air. And there's a room with bric-a-brac: Old and precious books all in a pack. Dare saying what I liked most of all? Enjoyed seeing visitors having a ball!”

PeopleLoveArtPoetryHouseWomenPoetPoemAncientOddGuestsVisitingOldTourismLyricsVisitorsPrecious ThingsPreciousWallsRarityRareMuseumVisitRhymesOdeTourBardPablo NerudaNerudaArt CollectionArt CollectorOld PieceRhymedAcrostiLa ChasconaPablo Neruda OdePablo Neruda Poetry PopulismPreciosity
Book:ACross Tic
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“- Като дете изпитвах същото по клоните на големите дървета. Да стоиш прилепен до един ствол, толкова древен, че и най-древната човешка памет бледнее пред него, ти внушава същото чувство за място в света.”

PhilosophyTreeSeaHumanMemoryAncientPhilosopherOldбългарскиSagaBulgarianвойнаElderBardMartinчовексвятразломреймъндсагафийстRiftwarмястоLongbowбарддълголъкиямартинфилософдревендърветапаметчувство
Book:Magician: Master
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“I would travel far and wide...seeing, listening, creating. I would weave tales for an enthralled audience. A song would be heard throughout the kingdom, and I would be a part of that. You would normally think that a bard would pick up his tales from stories heard in his travels or, perhaps, from personal observation of these events. Perhaps some bards would create the stories themselves or, at least, adapt the original versions heard... But what if the bard were really more than a bard? What if he were once a gallant knight or an old sea captain...perhaps even a forgotten prince? What if the stories he told, what if the characters brought to life in his stories, were really of his comrades and himself? Stories from long ago that he finally wished to be heard? What if those who listened to his tales, all the while assuming that they were far disconnected from their communicator, were really listening to the narrative of a wanderer intimately connected to it all? And where would such an individual go when his final days as an “official” bard were spent? Perhaps he would decide to retire in a lighthouse. For, surely, no place would be more fitting for the hero emeritus. He would gaze upon the glorious sea in recollection...guiding others with the beacon of light atop his home as he had once been shepherded. The adventurer became the storyteller...and then the Sentinel of the Sea.”

SeaHeroOceanStorytellingStoryStorytellerPrinceLighthouseBardSea Captain
Book:I Thirst
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“I'd rather you wanted to make love,' said Dernhil, smiling crookedly. 'That was my first thought, when you barged in here. I could easily refuse that.' 'It's a much lesser question,' said Cadvan gravely. Then he gave Dernhil a sharp look. 'Would you really refuse me?' 'Probably.' Dernhil's eyes brimmed with sudden laughter. 'Honestly, Cadvan, have you no grace? What a thing to ask!' Cadvan's rare smile smile leapt in his face. 'It occurs to me that I might love you well enough.' Dernhil looked briefly astonished. 'And to think that all these years I thought you hated me!' he said lightly. 'You know I don't hate you,' said Cadvan. 'I think you know I never did. Nor you me. And you, maybe more than anyone else I know, understands that there are many kinds of love.' He gestured impatiently. 'That's not what I'm asking, anyway.' 'I know.' Dernhil met his gaze darkly. 'Only you would demand such a thing, in the middle of the night, from me, of all people!' 'Yes,' said Cadvan, a soft mockery in his voice. 'From you, of all people!' Dernhil looked down at his hands and was silent for a time, thinking. Cadvan waited patiently, watching him. When Dernhil looked up, his face was open, and a smile lurked in the back of his eyes. 'Perhaps I love you enough to scary you, Cadvan,' he said. 'And that is a great deal more than you deserve.' p.146”

LoveTruthFriendshipBardPellinor
Book:The Bone Queen
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