~ The mystery of ‘The Phantom of the Opera’ ~ ๐Ÿ–ค๐ŸŒน

โ€˜The Phantom of the Operaโ€™ is definitely a tale about escapism- Christine spends her whole life being coached by a โ€˜mysterious voiceโ€™ that mentors her to do better and achieve beyond what she thought possible, when she finally steps through the mirror and meets the man behind the voice, her illusion shatters and she is repulsed by his deformed face. ๐Ÿ’€

Instead, she goes for her childhood sweetheart Raoul, and, the phantom realises that despite all heโ€™s given her, she still turns away in horror. She pities him and yet still agrees to lay a trap, by going along with his grand plans for her on the stage, but in the end, his jealousy still destroys them (and the opera house which is also his home.) ๐ŸŽผ๐ŸŽญ

We see him as the villain of the story, but we also feel sorry for him, hiding away with no love and kindness- and perhaps itโ€™s this forced solitude & space to develop his talents that turns him into a musical genius. There are many things to learn from it, that you canโ€™t force love, that you canโ€™t expect too much from anyone, yet also the power of forgiveness and also dedication throughout a lifetime. ๐Ÿ–ค๐Ÿ–ค

Another thing I love about the Phantom are the aesthetics, the opulent backdrop & historical references- after all itโ€™s a theatre, the masquerade balls, the grandness, and of course, the amazing soundtrack!! Andrew Lloyd Webber really transformed it and made it his own- hence why it still stands the test of time. ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿป๐Ÿ‘ป๐ŸŽžโ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €

~ ๐””๐”ฒ๐”ฌ๐”ฑ๐”ข ๐” ๐”ฌ๐”ฏ๐”ซ๐”ข๐”ฏ~

โ€œThey played at hearts as other children might play at ball; only, as it was really their two hearts that they flung to and fro, they had to be very, very handy to catch them, each time, without hurting them.โ€

โ€œAnd, despite the care which she took to look behind her at every moment, she failed to see a shadow which followed her like her own shadow, which stopped when she stopped, which started again when she did and which made no more noise than a well-conducted shadow should.โ€

View from a Castle

2015-07-17 17.02.02

Rose Gardens, ‘Hever Castle’ 07.15


The Sky is streaked like an aeroplane runway, double yellow lines at the roadside. Puffs of evaporated whiteness dissipate slowly, absorbed by the hungry mouth of unending blue.

ย The moat is a still mirror, stone and latticed brickwork sliding about on its surface like a skater on ice. Fingers of ivy snake in brilliant amber and ox-blood, splattering the castle in a web of tattoos.

She thrums her fingers on damp wood, wind battering her skin fiercely as she steps off the drawbridge; into the gloom beyond. ‘Surely,’ she thinks, ‘a queen needs a crown?’…


Copyright ยฉ 2015 by Kate W J White (All Rights Reserved)

Midnight Rose

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThe turf is ploughed straight like

newly dug graves- surgical, pristine.

They bob in acquiescence,

bringing the gift of rare beauty.

Yellow, soft pink, blood red;

the overpowering

drugged scent that ripens the air,

ย captivating the senses in the solitude

of a secret garden.


Copyright ยฉ 2014 by Kate W J White (All Rights Reserved)