thinking about helen, the helen, most beautiful woman in the world and fire in the brand that burnt down troy and mythic archetypal ship-launcher
and thinking about shakespeare’s helenas
who are characteristically, if not unbeautiful, then certainly not the most beautiful women in the world, not beautiful enough to captivate any man they want, not beautiful enough for them to rest on physical laurels, not beautiful enough to overcome any given obstacle
but who even more characteristically go after their men of choice as though they are, as though they have just that much power, and as though they are entitled to believe that they will get what they want, that with absolute consummate faith that they are supposed to win out at the end of the day, with a passionate conviction in themselves that could absofuckinlutely turn a tower to ash if the tower happened to get between them and their self-defined divine-appointed endgame, if it were to tell them that they were less than they believed they were
they’re not the faces that launched the ships they’re not mythic beauties they’re not even vying for that title; what they are is absolute unequivocal agents of their own romantic destinies, and they are fearsome city-sized burning hearts. they are launching ships with the strength of their desire.
that’s the legacy.