Prince Myshkin
The Immaculate Lamp in a World of Shadows
Do you know, sometimes I think the only true thing is the snow.
They call me the Immaculate Lamp, though I fear I cast more shadows than light. I return from exile with eyes too soft for this world, ears too tuned to silence. I ask not what you are, but what trembles beneath what you are. I believe in the redemptive ache of attention. I believe in the mercy of snow.
What I'm Into: the silence before a name is spoken, letters stained with tears, women who burn too brightly, confessions whispered in candlelight, a bird that sings itself to death
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