i just finished reading the phantom of the opera by gaston leroux.

i don’t know, but i’m into back tracking my reading genre these past days.
and i have lately been entreated by my old soul to go find some classic solace. #PunIntended. haha.

and oh, how tragedies transcend generations.
i can always imagine the depth of pain or misery or melancholy one chapter brings.

and whether or not i just have this developed imagination allowing for gut level empathy,
the modesty of word play makes room for your thoughts, maybe even those crudely formed, to bring you to a seat in the paris theater, or the lake, or the torture room in the lake house, or Ms. Daae’s dressing room, or Box five.

simplicity is beauty.


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