Ever since I first saw Breakfast at Tiffany’s, its star, Audrey Hepburn, has been my beauty inspiration. bangs, wispy ones. defined eyebrows. wardrobe she popularized back then—Capri pants, ballet flats, little black dresses—oozes panache to this day.
Aquarius is the eleventh Sign of the Zodiac. You’re a visionary, progressive soul spending your time thinking about how you can help make the world a better place. For you, this is a collaborative effort and you are quick to engage others in your plans. While your heart is in the right place, you can sometime be impatient or temperamental when others disagree with your plan. Some might even call your behavior eccentric. Still, you treasure your friends and want to give back to the world as much as you can.
I think about the idea to go away from here, out of this world. To smile with worse smile in which I’ll feel fog from this morning. Looking the day around myself, I admire to nonexisting emotions. I wanna try to sit for a while, to let the heaven take me away to my world where feeling is not a feeling but the noise of my neighbours. I need to hoist my view according to him… sky. And my shutters are heavy like the life of my neighbours. I wish they were heavy like mine. Then it would be art to live, and it would be poetry to die. It all would be lie. Some kind of death is waiting for me on the end of the time. I don’t feel the fear, except MY fear I feel all the time. So am I sensing the emotions or just reality? Do I cry the confusion or I drown in it? Do I hide or do I run? Or both? How will I get up from the cloud if I knew I’ll fall down again? I’ll go away, stepping from continent to continent and just sometimes listening the sound of ocean in which I’ll recognize my pale figure. I want no one to join me in the walk through the parts of myself, through the parts of my happiness, through the parts of my pain. I want no one to stop me from crying ‘cause they’d start to cry with me - together in my pain, together in my heaven, together in my hell. Together in the poem of my life. I need to go, I have to go, I want to go, I have to give a chance to my heaven to show me how much impact did it leave on me. Now my view arrives at the bottom of the sea whose color is under the color of my eyes. And now are many people around me, everybody wants me to jump with them in ocean of connection. I’m trying to believe but I die in my failures, those people are just shadows and they know how to stop me to be brave, but they are idiots ‘cause they don’t know how to stop me to be dead. Yes, the rain will start, someday, and I’ll dream the same dream, and I’ll hear the same sounds, and I’ll see the same monsters, and I’ll cry for the same reasons because my lips will be wet of the… rain. Sea waves will cover imagination and bring me the song from the distance. I’ll weep for the ages, I’ll think of escape, I’ll think of the moments of joy in me… that disappeared. Whole this thing is a secret place and the girl in me became the fear that was born from the secrets. I’m making steps through the high forest of memories. Once, I’ll go to that forest and call my lost memories and fragrances of the summers. I’ll take with me happiness and someone who I’ll love the most. Fragrances won’t lose their meaning, fragrances won’t lose their meaning, I won’t lose my meaning, I won’t lose the one I’ll love the most. I have never loved anyone – I adored them, I adore them, they adore me, but I’m still lost and frightened, maybe ‘cause I’m so adorable. Or so delicate inside or just so frightened, so frightened, so frightened, so frightened…. Why does the tenderness come to my face?
“In the world of the dreamer there was solitude: all the exaltations and joys came in the moment of preparation for living. They took place in solitude. But with action came anxiety, and the sense of insuperable effort made to match the dream, and with it came weariness, discouragement, and the flight into solitude again. And then in solitude, in the opium den of remembrance, the possibility of pleasure again.”—Anaïs Nin, “Children of the Albatross” (1947)
Lupercalia was an ancient pastoral festival, observed on February 13 through 15 to avert evil spirits and purify the city, releasing health and fertility. Lupercalia subsumed Februa, an earlier-origin spring cleansing ritual held on the same date, which gives the month of February its name.
The Lupercalia by name was believed in antiquity to have some connection with the Ancient Greek festival of the Arcadian Lykaia (from Ancient Greek: λύκος — lykos, “wolf”, Latin lupus) and the worship of Lycaean Pan, the Greek equivalent to Faunus, as instituted by Evander.
In Roman mythology, Lupercus is a god sometimes identified with the Roman god Faunus, who is the Roman equivalent of the Greek god Pan. Lupercus is the god of shepherds. His festival, celebrated on the anniversary of the founding of his temple on February 15, was called the Lupercalia. His priests wore goatskins. The 2nd-century Christian apologist Justin Martyr mentions an image of “the Lycaean god, whom the Greeks call Pan and the Romans Lupercus,” nude save for the girdle of goatskin, which stood in the Lupercal, the cave where Romulus and Remus were suckled by a she-wolf. There, on the Ides of February (in February the ides is the 13th), a goat and a dog were sacrificed, and salt mealcakes prepared by the Vestal Virgins were burnt.
Plutarch described Lupercalia:
Lupercalia, of which many write that it was anciently celebrated by shepherds, and has also some connection with the Arcadian Lycaea. At this time many of the noble youths and of the magistrates run up and down through the city naked, for sport and laughter striking those they meet with shaggy thongs. And many women of rank also purposely get in their way, and like children at school present their hands to be struck, believing that the pregnant will thus be helped in delivery, and the barren to pregnancy.
The Lupercalia festival was partly in honor of Lupa, the she-wolf who suckled the infant orphans, Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome, explaining the name of the festival, Lupercalia, or “Wolf Festival.” The festival was celebrated near the cave of Lupercal on the Palatine Hill (the central hill where Rome was traditionally founded), to expiate and purify new life in the Spring. The Lupercal cave, which had fallen into a state of decay, was rebuilt by Augustus; the celebration of the festival had been maintained, as we know from the famous occurrence of it in 44 BC. A highly decorated cavern 50 feet (15 m) below Augustus’ palace in the correct approximate location was discovered by archeologists in October 2007, which may prove to be the Lupercal cave when analyzed.
The religious ceremonies were directed by the Luperci, the “brothers of the wolf (lupus)”, a corporation of priests of Faunus, dressed only in a goatskin, whose institution is attributed either to the Arcadian Evander, or to Romulus and Remus. The Luperci were divided into two collegia, called Quinctiliani (or Quinctiales) and Fabiani, from the gens Quinctilia (or Quinctia) and gens Fabia; at the head of each of these colleges was a magister. In 44 BC, a third college, the Julii, was instituted in honor of Julius Caesar, the first magister of which was Mark Antony. In imperial times the members were usually of equestrian standing.
The festival began with the sacrifice by the Luperci (or the flamen dialis) of two male goats and a dog. Next two young patrician Luperci were led to the altar, to be anointed on their foreheads with the sacrificial blood, which was wiped off the bloody knife with wool soaked in milk, after which they were expected to smile and laugh.
The sacrificial feast followed, after which the Luperci cut thongs from the skins of the victims, which were called februa, dressed themselves in the skins of the sacrificed goats, in imitation of Lupercus, and ran round the walls of the old Palatine city, the line of which was marked with stones, with the thongs in their hands in two bands, striking the people who crowded near. Girls and young women would line up on their route to receive lashes from these whips. This was supposed to ensure fertility, prevent sterility in women and ease the pains of childbirth. This tradition itself may survive (Christianised, and shifted to Spring) in certain ritual Easter Monday whippings.
By the 5th century, when the public performance of pagan rites had been outlawed, a nominally Christian Roman populace still clung to the Lupercalia in the time of Gelasius (494–96). It had been literally degraded since the 1st century, when in 44 BC the consul Mark Antony did not scruple to run with the Luperci; now the upper classes left the festivities to the rabble. Whatever the fortunes of the rites in the meantime, in the last decade of the 5th century they prompted Pope Gelasius I’s taunt to the senators who were intent on preserving them: “If you assert that this rite has salutary force, celebrate it yourselves in the ancestral fashion; run nude yourselves that you may properly carry out the mockery.” The remark was addressed to the senator Andromachus by Gelasius in an extended literary epistle that was virtually a diatribe against the Lupercalia. Gelasius finally abolished the Lupercalia after a long dispute.