A voyage out

Brazilian, Literature student

[showings]

“You, God, who live next door— If at times, through the long night, I trouble you with my urgent knocking— this is why: I hear you breathe so seldom. I know you’re all alone in that room. If you should be thirsty, there’s no one to get you a glass of water. I wait listening, always. Just give me a sign! I’m right here. As it happens, the wall between us is very thin. Why couldn’t a cry from one of us break it down? It would crumble easily, it would barely make a sound.”

— Rainer Maria Rilke, tr. Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy, “Du, Nachbar Gott, wenn ich dich manchesmal” |  Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God

[heavenlyyshecomes]

There are days that walk through me

and I cannot hold them.

—Katherine Larson, ‘The Gardens in Tunisia,’ in Radial Symmetry

[fairycosmos]

you are just mad because time cast a spell on you but you won’t forget me

[feral-ballad]

Tishani Doshi, from Everything Begins Elsewhere; “The Art of Losing”

[allthesedarlingsandnowme]

The Last Days of Judas Iscariot, Guirgis

Frankenstein, Shelley

[partingglances1986]

If you enjoyed this book you should read every other book in the world for extra textual context. All things are intricately related to one another.

[endofdesires]

“Farewells can be shattering, but returns are surely worse. Solid flesh can never live up to the bright shadow of absence.”

— Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin (via hellanne)

[lilllium]

—Kitchen Mckeown, from Outbreaks

[boykeats]

[ID: poem text reading,

"i crawl in the moss. it is easy to find god. she is a cluster of eels beneath my palms. i ask of her, am i doing any of this life right? and she, with her many mouths, says nothing."

/end ID]

[phillenz]

"This heart within me i can feel, and I judge that it exists. This world I can touch, and I likewise judge that it exists. There ends all my knowledge, and the rest is construction. For if I try to seize this self of which I feel sure, if I try to define and to summarize it, it is nothing but water slipping through my fingers. [...] This very heart which is mine will forever remain indefinable to me. [...] Forever I shall be a stranger to myself."

~ Albert Camus, Myth of Sisyphus (1942)

[primulaceas]

Eileen Myles, “Holes.” I Must Be Living Twice: New and Selected Poems 1975 - 2014

[feral-ballad]

Zeina Hashem Beck, from O; “Ghazal: With Prayer”

[pinkblanc]

Ilo Hiller, The White-Tailed Deer, 1996

[shisasan]

I really was sad today. 

August 3, 1913 Letters to Felice by Franz Kafka First published : 1973

[quasi-normalcy]

We have this interesting situation where we basically no longer have privacy nor the expectation of privacy, but we also don't have community or meaningful connection with others, so we're all simultaneously both completely exposed and absolutely alone, and please understand that when I say this situation is "interesting", what I in fact mean is that it's "nightmarish and I wish I could wake up"

[theoptia]

Marguerite Duras, from The Easy Life

Text ID: I was no one, I had neither name nor face. Moving through August, I was: nothing.

[hereith]

There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.

Laurell K. Hamilton / Mistral’s Kiss

[weltenwellen]

Joy Sullivan, from “These Days People Are Really Selling Me On California”, Instructions for Traveling West