Talking dirty … about Beauty

 

Chinese beauty in traditional costume  “Beauty. The power by which a woman charms a lover and terrifies a husband.” 

    Ambrose Bierce (1842-1914) American writer, satirist

 

 

 

Being Chinese, it is imperative for me to put across alternate/different image of beauty? 🙂

  Till next time,
  – FlorenceT
 
P/S Why talking dirty? See the first post on this series.

Talking dirty (A) Ageing

Talking dirty? To put this in context, see the first post in this series of how this began.

Ageing… well, I can’t choose so here are two amazing quotes… do you wonder why the book from which these quotes were extracted is titled “Talking Dirty”? Not exactly controversial, is it…?

 

ageingThe age of a woman doesn’t mean a thing.  The best tunes are played on the oldest fiddles.           Ralph Waldo Emerson, American writer

 

 

thankfulWhen a woman in love reaches a  certain age, though her heart may cease to sing, her eyes remain veiled with gratitude.           Collete (Sidonie-Gabrielle), French writer

 

 

And here is Mae West talking dirty about love.

While we’re on the topic of ‘Woman’…

Till next time,
– FlorenceT
 

© 2014 Copyright reserved. The author asserts her moral and legal rights over this work.

 

Picture in my mind

Postaday – Frame of Mind

A willowy woman of small stature sitting atop a mountain with a straight back, her legs crossed and her hands resting on her knee, palms up.  Dressed in black yoga pants and a white mid-riff top, her long jet black hair is being blown by the gentle breeze, not too strong to disturb her repose and yet strong enough to whip her hair into disarray.  She is facing her gaze, and around her is turbulence – the ominous tornado swirling in the distant.  With her eyes closed, her face reveals a calm in stark contrast. Her posture in silent resistance to the impending storm, engendering a welcoming stillness.  The soft set of her mouth belies the certainty that all is well.

The mountain top on which she sits is rocky, with tufts of grass weed brown and weary interspersed, not a soft space to be seen. Nowhere to lay down, to curl up to rest.  In the distance, there is the dark shadow of more peaks, more challenges.

Harsh and forbidding, the grey landscape is nevertheless familiar. In that familiarity is the feeling of safety and security, for she knows she can, as she had before, withstand the tornado arriving.  For it too will depart, leaving her yet again resolute, stronger in the knowledge of greater overcoming.

A painting of black hues…