Look at the stars, look how they shine for you

My head is filled with thoughts of Regent's England and men with manners, voices as caressing as a sigh...It seems that in my life I may have found my Mr. Wickham, but not my Mr. Darcy? My John Crawford, but not by Edmund? My Frank Churchill, but not my Mr. Knightley? Not to say that my past was faulty...my past was perfect, and that's why it's hard to let it go. But more the thought that something wondrous and lovely might come along, out of the dust and the shadows. (Thanks to darling Chesley for reminding me of this. I had forgotten...I still forget every few hours or so.) I'm currently watching the latest Masterpiece Theater adaptation of Emma, starring Romola Garai (I've always wondered if she's named after George Eliot's novel...) and Jonny Lee Miller. I love him. I loved him in Mansfield Park, I loved his soulful gaze on Eli Stone, and I love him here-- for proving Emma wrong that "men don't like girls who argue." Thank goodness, because then I, the one who questions and questions to no avail, would be discarded by society.

"I cannot make speeches, Emma": he soon resumed; and in a tone of such sincere, decided, intelligible tenderness as was tolerably convincing.--"If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am.--You hear nothing but truth from me.--I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it.-- Bear with the truths I would tell you now, dearest Emma, as well as you have borne with them. The manner, perhaps, may have as little to recommend them. God knows, I have been a very indifferent lover.-- But you understand me.--Yes, you see, you understand my feelings-- and will return them if you can. At present, I ask only to hear, once to hear your voice."

I tell myself that I need to remember my sparkle, despite everything, and to remember the beauty. I might have to look a little harder lately, but it's still there. I took these photos of some of the apartment decor to remind myself:

Look at the stars,
Look how they shine for you,
And everything you do,
Yeah they were all yellow,

I came along
I wrote a song for you
And all the things you do
And it was called yellow

So then I took my turn
Oh all the things I've done
And it was all yellow.