“Startles of Beauty and Terror cause her mind to glow.
Think of those bright glimpses of immortality!
How often she saw what we don’t see.”
Emily Dickinson, Bright Glimpses of Immortality
BEAUTY IS TERROR.
This is the unspoken threat that dictates morning routines.
It dictates our days, our, expressions: how we’re seen and how we see others.
We live our lives collecting ghosts and skeletons
And the roads we walk on carve deep lines into our face,
Erupt volcanoes in our pores,
And cause us to subconsciously pluck our eyebrows into oblivion.
Each day we are given the opportunity to create who we want to be, both figuratively and very literally.
The unwarranted Michelangelos
The actual gods that create and morph themselves into whomever they like are those who wield makeup brushes like swords. There is nothing else with which one can immediately transform themselves into someone else entirely
Nothing else that quite shapes the way others interact with them, or how they don’t.
We make ourselves inviting
Or dangerous
By the colors we paint our lips.
Power is the thickness of winged liner.
I am the modern Icarus and not even the sun will burn my wings.
Beth Fonseca
thinkingthroughmakingsourcebook 