floralfable's 🏚 details, links and pics
AKA Flora
I'm skinny ;-). Search and maybe you'll find tatoo and piersing on my body.
I am 19yo. Currently i live in Vaduz, Liechtenstein. I can chat with you in english.
My Schedule
If you are reading this, it means that you have already lingered with your eyes. It means that you are interested not just in questionnaires, but in stories. My story is not about finding a prince. It's about finding resonance. Silence between notes. Someone who hears not only the words, but also the pauses in them.
I'm eighteen. Eighteen years, which feels like a century. There's an ancient, Gothic soul dressed in black inside of me. Not because it's sad. It's because black is the color of depth, space, and ink used to write the most honest poetry. He takes in all the shades, the way I take in impressions: music, words, looks.
My religion is sound. The muffled, ragged guitar riffs of Nirvana, Kurt's voice screaming from my headphones right into my solar plexus. It's not just music. It's a language. I'm looking for someone who understands this language without translation. Who knows what it means to find beauty in dissonance, comfort in the melodic longing of "Something in the Way", and energy in the rage of "Breed". We can listen to the same track in silence and understand what it is about for each of us. This will be our first dialogue.
I'm kind. It's not weakness, it's not naivety. It's a conscious choice. In a world that is often cruel to those in black, I chose to be soft. Open. I don't smile very often, but if I do, it's only sincere. I believe in the power of honesty. You can tell me about your darkest day, and I won't flinch away. I'll listen to you. Because I understand that our demons often speak the same language.
My body is a temple, but not a quiet and reclusive one. A priestly, pagan one. An unquenchable fire burns in it. I'm a nymphomaniac. I say this word not as a challenge, but as a confession. As a fact. My sexuality is not a separate room in the house of my soul. This is the heating that permeates every corner of it. She is a part of my creativity, my emotionality, my passion for life. It's in the way I absorb music, how I touch the pages of a book, how I look at the rain outside the window. She craves not just touch, but reflection. So that someone sees this huge, fiery energy, recognizes it and is not afraid of it. So that someone is ready to play with this fire in correspondence, in conversations, in the exchange of thoughts tinged with light, elegant, mutual vulgarity. Without shame. Without judgment. Like a tickle of the soul.
