frenchqueenthirteen
frenchqueenthirteen
| Forum role | Member since | Last activity | Topics created | Replies created |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Member | Jan 4, 2012 (14 years) |
- | 1 | 3 |
- Forum role
- Member
- Member since
Jan 4, 2012 (14 years)
- Last activity
- -
- Topics created
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- Replies created
- 3
Bio
How to begin?
These are diaries kept principally by me, Louise, but also by Louis. Nothing very unusual there, except that Louis crossed the veil in 1643. I first saw his portrait in 1981; it was a couldn't-stop-looking moment (and it was far from the best portrait of him). It didn't take long for attraction to turn to interest to turn to fascination to turn to love.
What I didn't know then, or for a quarter-century-odd, was that he already loved me. I wasn't even sure there was such a thing as an afterlife, and I certainly didn't think that, if there were, there was any reason Louis should know or care about me. "I love you, therefore you must love me" wasn't part of my thinking. It wasn't part of his either, I might add. He didn't try to contact me until after I fell for him of my own free will.
It's been five years since we came into contact at last.They've been five years of unlearning assumptions (no such thing/you aren't psychic/why would he fall for me to name three) and, once over those hurdles - more a matter of scrambling over them than any athletic leaps! - learning to hear, and see, and sense his presence, and to trust those senses.
I don't think there's anything supernatural in any of this. Supernatural seems a silly term to me. I see nature as encompassing a great deal more than the earthly world, that's all. Spirit is another world, or dimension, or whatever you want to call it, but the part of it I visit and will eventually live in is very much a recognisable geography, a place of forests and plains and seas, towns and residences for all sorts of persons (Louis's preferred term) whether they are human or animal.
I hope you enjoy reading the simple events of our time together. It's all true; none of this is fiction, nor is it the tales of dreams, nor the product of delusion. It is joyful reality, and I only ask that readers bear that in mind.
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