alice glass, crystal castles
Raw passion is never pretty, though it’s often beautiful. Raw passion is never abstract, though it’s often indecipherable. Raw passion is never silent, though it often exists outside the boundaries of orthodox sensory perception.
Raw passion is unavoidably and inescapably the territory of the young. Age and experience are filters that refine emotion, sifting out the cruder, unprocessed feelings. Over time passion is distilled, purified, clarified and cleansed, replaced by technique and served up in individually-wrapped cellophane packets.
Raw passion is a tornado. Dangerous, stunning, overpowering, exquisite in its savage intensity, feeding on itself. It is lovely to look upon, like tracer fire at night.
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