Adelheid Manefeldt
Born
in Pretoria
October 28, 1982
Twitter
Genre
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Years: a book of tiny poetry
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Consequence
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a'musing/a'musant: collected thoughts/versamelde denke
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Carnal Casualties: The Book of Amorous Blows: Vol 1: Fate & Friction
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* Note: these are all the books on Goodreads for this author. To add more, click here.
“After all relationships had sell-by dates. Sometimes, the ones with the most passion were the ones to burn out faster. Others had a sweet and long-winding coil which burned with slow amicability. At times, it was true, people rekindled a dying ember with a new flame. But they hardly ever noticed the rekindling had come after some time of estrangement - whether physical or emotional. Because people needed newness to make a thing last indefinitely. To make it really last. And because Jan didn't like letting people go, she knew to look for the signs of love's waning. So she could tell how to ease it down slowly into its grave and keep her lovers as friends. Because she really believed people were meant to cross paths. People were meant to stay in your life. There was a reason for all encounters. And relationships had to be cosseted, no matter their shelf life. But they had to be allowed to change shape and form. It had to be given space to grow into something different.”
― Consequence
― Consequence
“The secret tugs at my sleeve.
A child looking for attention.
It is not a big secret.
But it is not the only one either.
“Strength in numbers” they say.
For they are many.
Many little things that – together –
weigh tonnes.
And take up space.
And are quite noisy.
The way only a lot of whispers can make noise.
And they follow me.
Little secrets
of omission, desire,
and denial.
Of indulgence, hedonism,
and exploration.
Of peeves, passion,
and deep-seated fear.
Little secrets
of despair
and
disrepair
and
prohibited thoroughfare.”
― Years: a book of tiny poetry
A child looking for attention.
It is not a big secret.
But it is not the only one either.
“Strength in numbers” they say.
For they are many.
Many little things that – together –
weigh tonnes.
And take up space.
And are quite noisy.
The way only a lot of whispers can make noise.
And they follow me.
Little secrets
of omission, desire,
and denial.
Of indulgence, hedonism,
and exploration.
Of peeves, passion,
and deep-seated fear.
Little secrets
of despair
and
disrepair
and
prohibited thoroughfare.”
― Years: a book of tiny poetry
“The endless ocean was his sole companion , and on some deeply sentimental level, it seemed sufficient. Almost apt. He aligned himself with Thoreau and Tolstoy, he felt like their peers. The kinship with nature devoted humans to a mythical state, a heightened persona beyond the reach of mere mortals. At least that was what he told himself on the lonely nights when insomnia played on his fears and the howling wind pierced through his soul.”
― Consequence
― Consequence
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