Things You Never Knew

Prologue

I remember reading a book by Oscar Wilde, published in the late 800's. I was a normal boy in the eighth grade who hated reading. I recall searching throughout the book in search of something that might change my mind about literature.

I was almost giving up when something finally called my attention. It was the part of the book in were Wilde explained the definition of art to him. To him, art is the most intense form of individualism the world has known. I kept that in my mind, but at the time, I was way too young to understand the impact those words had in real life. Some years back to now, I read an article in a magazine in the train to my way home that stated what Thomas Merton wrote in No Man Is An Island. It said that art enables us to find and lose ourselves at the same time.

The truth is that it doesn't matter. Art has a different meaning for everyone. Art can be paintings hanging on a museum wall to some and to others, a way of expressing yourself. But if we really just open our eyes, we see that art is everywhere and art is everything.

Art is masterpieces that don't exactly need to have a certain form or color, but a meaning. Art can be the essence of everything there is of breathtaking in this world. It can be something that makes you feel everything or nothing at all or simply something that might call to mind a stillness in the middle of the pandemoniums that surround us.

Yet even with its intensity and its tragically tranquil essence, it can be unnoticed by us. Every once in a while, we meet fascinating people. People that take our breath away. People that makes us feel like life's actually worth living. People that are a gorgeous miscellany of chaos and harmony and oh God, Stephanie Olsen is exactly that kind of person.

She is a haunting chef-d'oeuvre. She is the kind of person you could just sit with and talk for hours and just never get bored. She is the kind of alluring in where you find yourself asking if every atom that composes her body once made up stars, galaxies and planets. She can captivate you in every single way.

She is beautiful in by what she says and in by who she is. She is untamable and hell, how she enjoys making that clear to everyone. She is intriguing in the way the sea washes the shore, in the way authors and poets write about and in the way wind dances in hair. She is art and I feel like that's the only thing I'll ever be so damn sure of.

Sporadically you find yourself surrounded by a kind of art that is too unexplainably outstanding to be shown in simple galleries or museums, but sometimes you it just takes you too long to see it. So she slips right out of your fingertips and that's when you finally notice that you only know what you had until it's gone.

Then you realize she was the nearest thing you could ever call a home and you ask yourself every night how the hell did you manage to be so dreadfully imbecile to astray the only motivation you had to make you want to wake up in the morning.

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Omilord! Finally did it! :) I know that this isn't really a good prologue, but keep in mind that I had this written since I was 13 and I'm just making the clean copy of it now. I'm still 14, so I still have a big thinking capacity I have to develop. :) Hope you like it despite the thousands of mistakes. <3

Love,

Jas, xx.