Mounira Al Solh (Lebanese,b.1978)
Illuminated Darkness, 2022
Oil on canvas

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祝日 / Permanent Vacation
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Mounira Al Solh (Lebanese,b.1978)
Illuminated Darkness, 2022
Oil on canvas
Fears, Louise Bourgeois, 1992.
Young female Palestinian liberation fighters, 1973
has anyone figured out how to be a real person yet
A Palestinian demonstrator carries rocks during clashes with israeli soldiers in the Palestinian town of al-Bireh in the Occupied West Bank, December 12, 2015.
(Photograph: Abbas Momani/AFP)
الذبابة لتشارلز سيميك:
كان يكتب عن تاريخ التفاؤل
في زمن الجنون. كانت تمطر.
إحدى أكبر هواة الجِيَف
لدى القصّاب المجاور
لا تنفك عن مضايقته
كانت هناك قطة أيضاً ترقب الذبابة،
وامرأة بأرجل منتفخة
تلبس برنساً متسخاً
وخفّين مهترئين
آتية بكوب من الشاي الباهت
بعد تنهدات كثيرة وسهوات مطوّلة
وجد قطعة سماء زرقاء في يوم مجزرة الأبرياء.
وجد زوجاً من العشاق
مرجاً منثوراً بالزهر الأصفر…
لكن لم يقدر على المتابعة… آهٍ أيها المرتجفون يا أصحاب الأجنحة الزرقاء…همس.
أحياناً يشبه الأمر الإمساك بعصاً بيضاء
وسط الظلال
بحثاً عن الكلمات المنشودة.
“Summertime is always the best of what might be.”
— Charles Bowden
الإسكندرية، مصر.
It’s July, Miranda
Werner Herzog // "I'm trying to find these rare moments where you feel completely illuminated. Facts never illuminate you. The phone directory of Manhattan doesn't illuminate you, although it has factually correct entries, millions of them. But these rare moments of illumination that you find when you read a great poem, you instantly know. You instantly feel this spark of illumination. You are almost stepping outside of yourself and you see something sublime."
rania matar, "stephanie, beirut, lebanon," 2010
tanya habjouqa, "untitled," n.d. from tomorrow there will be apricots (2012-2017)
I hope we can make our life vast enough
For the love to fit in it
"I felt a Funeral, in my Brain..."
by Emily Dickinson
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading – treading – till it seemed That Sense was breaking through – And when they all were seated, A Service, like a Drum – Kept beating – beating – till I thought My mind was going numb – And then I heard them lift a Box And creak across my Soul With those same Boots of Lead, again, Then Space – began to toll, As all the Heavens were a Bell, And Being, but an Ear, And I, and Silence, some strange Race, Wrecked, solitary, here –
And then a Plank in Reason, broke, And I dropped down, and down – And hit a World, at every plunge, And Finished knowing – then –
Kitty between olia leaf 🍀
Learned about this recently. Going forward, every ailment I have will now be Prairie Madness.
Feeling a bit sluggish?
Prairie Madness.
Nose running?
Prairie Madness.
A sense of longing, missing something I can't articulate. The name of it as familiar as my own breath but just as hard to grasp?
P̶̢̛̈́̀͊̽̌̾͐͋̑̒̔̊̎̀̚r̴̟̰͈̦̥̭̹̪͚͈̗̰̙̜̅́̿̐ă̵̧̢̮̭̖̺̜͠į̶͈̻͎͓̥̺̥̗͚̱͋̆́͜r̶̡̡̛̮̫̩̝͈̜̬̮̻̥͈̰͂͐̄̈́̍̔̍̀͂͜ie̷̛̱̝̮̩̞̪̜̩̜̪̙͖̪͈̥̿͋̆̂͋̅̃͊̔͘ ̵̧̤̺̟̝̗̯͇͙̱̼̳̞̜̦̘̓͛̈M̴̛̼̱͙̠̘̗͛̽͆̑͌͆̃̏̍̓͐̑͒̐̕͝ä̶̧̨͉͔̥̦͂͌͒̏̈́͝d̵̻̪̱͕̦̗͔̳̩͍̜̮̖̙̘̭̹̆̈͐̓̏͛̏̀̚̚͝n̵̢̮̫̣̞͎̬̖͔̪̞͓̊͛̀̉͗͊͊͑͆̔͜ͅė̶̹̣̗̠̖͆̆̆̅̃̇̆̓̀̎͘͝ͅs̵̞͇̼̻̊̏́̈́̔̔͠s̵͕̖̺̣͕̲͍̰̼͗̈̀̈́̑́̊̋́̓̄̈́͑̓́͆̚
Al Quds (Jerusalem), Palestine