The Brown Eyed Dreamer

'Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.' William Wordsworth


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The Curious Ones

I have a love for the curious ones in this life. I find the world a fascinating place full of mystery and adventure just waiting to be uncovered and explored, and finding someone who sees the world in that same way is an amazing thing to me. I love people who question the world and how it works, people who are keen to learn and explore and experience. I love people who reach out in the dark and grasp at the unknown, ready to face whatever they find. I love the glint in their eyes which are always moving to and fro, taking in every nook, cranny and crevice; I love how a question is always on the tip of their tongue, lips curled into an awestruck gentle smile. I love their giddy excitement for new things, their eagerness to try something new and relish in change. I love how they view the world around them with such questioning eyes and the more I grow to know them, the more I begin to see the world in the curiously intricate way they do. I soon fall in love with their world, and in a little way, with them too.


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A Love Affair with Eyes

There’s something about eyes that just captivates me. When a mask is carved and placed expertly over a face to create a void of emotion, eyes are the one things that consistently shine through and show how we really feel, who we truly are. Out of everything in a person, eyes always remain in my mind after the memory of a face has long since faded.

I love eyes of any colour, wide and child-like or small and scrutinising. I love eyes that are seas you could drown in, with hazy flecks of colours swimming through their gentle following colour. I love eyes surrounded by paths of crinkles and wrinkles that tell of a thousand frowns and a thousand smiles. I love eyes with glints of secrets shrouded within, the ghost of stories yet untold hiding and waiting to be discovered. I love eyes that express more than words and a smile ever could; eyes that create a memory so vivid it engrains itself into our very minds. I love the eyes of children, filled with innocent delight and an unending curious gleam. I love the eyes of the older, brimming with tears spilled and frothing with laughter, bright, wise sparks of life in a wrinkled, ageing face. I love how every eye sees the world in a different way, and how no two eyes could ever look the same; eyes who have withheld the beauty of this world and have endured pain and sorrow, eyes that reflect every memory in a kaleidoscope of colour and brightness that I can’t help but fall for each time I look upon them.