Lajos Szabo, Shadow Play, 1932
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Lajos Szabo, Shadow Play, 1932
𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟑𝟏, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.
There's no other version of myself I'd rather be, nor any other moment or place I'd rather be in. I am genuinely at peace today.
Joaquín Sorolla - Señora de Sorolla (Clotilde García del Castillo) in Black, 1906 (detail), oil on canvas
“Blue is a mysterious color, hue of illness and nobility, the rarest color in nature. It is the color of ambiguous depth, of the heavens and of the abyss at once; blue is the color of the shadow side, the tint of the marvelous and the inexplicable, [and] of desire…”
— Alexander Theroux, from “Blue”, The Primary Colours: Three Essays
“When you are investigating language, you are investigating people. Language has no existence apart from the people who speak it. To get to know a language, you have to get to know the people. There is no other way.”
— Just a Phrase I’m Going Through: My Life in Language (via ball-eis-korakas)
“Gothic horror is often built on a series of repetitions that create a sense of impending doom, “as if events were never entirely the unique and unrepeated product of human choices, but rather the replication of an unknown or buried pattern”, in the words of David B. Morris. In folk horror narratives, ritual serves a particular purpose: its repetitive nature implies that it is inescapable, that it will forever be replicated. The origins of these rituals are lost in time, their limits are outside our reason. If the gothic protagonist, entrapped in a manor house, feels the weight of the past manifesting as a family curse, the folk horror protagonist becomes a prisoner of the landscape and these rituals. The pattern that is being replicated is dictated by the seasons, by the fertility of the land: it is in the soil itself, and in the landscape, and it demands blood.”
—
Hellebore #1, The Sacrifice Issue
(website)
“Why do people go to the cinema? What takes them into a darkened room where, for two hours, they watch the play of shadows on a sheet? The search for entertainment? The need for a kind of drug? All over the world there are, indeed, entertainment firms and organisations which exploit cinema and television and spectacles of many other kinds. Our starting-point, however, should not be there, but in the essential principles of cinema, which have to do with the human need to master and know the world. I think that what a person normally goes to the cinema for is time: for time lost or spent or not yet had. He goes there for living experience; for cinema, like no art, widens, enhances, and concentrates a person’s experience—and not only enhances it but makes it longer, significantly longer.”
— Andrei Tarkovsky, tr. Kitty Hunter-Blair | Sculpting in Time (via showings)
I love it when literature touches me, when it reaches my bones. It doesn't matter if it's in a pleasurable way or a horrifying way, either way it's satisfying.
Ron Hicks
(American, b.1965)
“I was always attracted not by some quantifiable, external beauty, but by something deep down, something absolute. Just as some people have a secret love for rainstorms, earthquakes, or blackouts, I liked that certain, undefinable something.”
- Haruki Murakami, The Unvisited
I will love you in all my madness, and in all my fragile moments of sanity. I will love you from the cracks of my brain, and so wholly from the heart you healed.
"Well, let it pass; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice."
– F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Short Stories
Irving Ramsey Wiles (American, 1861-1948)
Russian Tea
My love language is remembering your favorite things. Like yes, I know that you don't like to eat sweet things and yes, I also know how you love to eat pasta. I love to remember little details about my favorite person and that means a lot to me.
"Sometimes I remind myself that I almost skipped the party, that I almost went to a different college, that the whim of a minute could have changed everything and everyone. Our lives, so settled, so specific, are built on happenstance."
-Anna Quindlen, "Every Last One"
Alfred East (English, 1844-1913)
Autumn in the Valley of the Ouse, Sussex
i think waiting together is a love language. wait for the train with me, so we can talk a little longer. wait for dinner with me, we can slow dance in the kitchen. wait for me until i can talk after crying my eyes out, hold me, we will figure it out. wait for me when it gets rough, i know i can get through this (with you). wait for me in the car, this song is too good to not finish listening to it. wait for the first snow with me, cold red noses and bright eyes. lets wait for each other, i love you.