the smell of incense on my skin, the sound of the bon-sho bell echoing off the ko'olau mountains. heavy air, grey skies. our feet are muddy from the jungle and i feel grateful for sacred things, for a place separate from the rush of living. 

"Dearest, I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don't think two people could have been happier 'til this terrible disease came. I can't fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can't even write this properly. I can't read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that—everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can't go on spoiling your life any longer. I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been. V"

virginia woolf's suicide letter, written to her husband shortly before she filled her pockets with heavy stones and walked into a river near their home. a beautifully sad farewell, a hopeless declaration of surrender, of love, despair, and gratitude. 

 

 

 

 

 

a friend of mine recently posted beautiful photos of her summer wedding, sending me into a delicious daydream of our own special day last december. a celebration of love, a whirlwind of joy and eager adoration. friend & photographer dewey keithly captured the treasured moments above--few among the many precious memories we made on that rainy island day.