Old wishes are new apologies. @awakendreamers - Tumblr Blog

[Image ID: black line work on a warm beige background of Zuko giving Sokka a piggy back ride. Zuko looks back at Sokka smiling with his eyes closed, and pushed to the side of Zuko's head is the Blue Spirit mask done in patterned blue, white, and grey papercraft.

Sokka looks down at Zuko, his thumb tilting Zuko's chin and cheek towards him. Sokka's other arm is hooked around Zuko's front, and in his hand dangles his red, black, white, and yellow mask from the Fire Days Festival featured in "The Deserter" episode, also papercrafted. END ID.]

post heist bliss for @zukkaweek day one: blue spirit zuko masked zukka if you want to pull off a successful heist, you're gonna need a good mask!

@boybff had the phenomenal idea to do a collab for zukka week, and i am just ecstatic at how it turned out! thank you jax for giving me the opportunity to finally blend paperart and digital art, and for gifting us with such a soft zukka moment 🧡🧡

(detailed photos of the masks under the cut!)

#redandbluegatoradeenergy #🍒🫐

healing-my-souls-essence-deacti

softhe4rted

Cheryl Strayed - Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar

pc98backgrounds

I believe one day

There will be another world

Of your former self.

I hope distance let’s you find it.

#hopeful #mywords

memoryslandscape-deactivated202

“Memory is not any one person’s task, memory is something we build together. The reason for this is because memory is a burden.”

— Jorge Ignacio Cortiñas, from “Notes on Returning to San Francisco Twenty-Five Years Later,” Apogee (no. 7)

#ooooooo #fuck.

lifeinpoetry

“God, God, what do I do / after all this survival?”

— Traci Brimhall, from “Vive, Vive,” published in The Missouri Review

kafk-a

Anne Boyer

kafk-a

Fanny Howe

seaoflove

joan didion from slouching towards betlehem

kafk-a

also when anne boyer said “notebook is my favourite genre”

#keepers of words #living through language #running from bethlehem

fragmentarie

“I was looking for a love unlike my parents’ love or my sister’s love or the love on a foreign kitchen floor. I wanted my own kitchen to keep clean and full of bread and milk and hot sauce and a big clean empty sink where I could wash my dishes. I wanted to forgive my mother and father for their misery and find myself a light man who lived buoyantly and to be both his light and his dark, serious baby.”

— Rebecca Dinerstein, The Sunlit Night

missedstations

"Unpainted Door" - Louise Glück

Finally, in middle age, I was tempted to return to childhood. The house was the same, but the door was different. Not red anymore— unpainted wood. The trees were the same: the oak, the copper beech. But the people— all the inhabitants of the past— were gone: lost, dead, moved away. The children from across the street old men and women. The sun was the same, the lawns parched brown in summer. But the present was full of strangers. And in some way it was all exactly right, exactly as I remembered: the house, the street, the prosperous village— Not to be reclaimed or re-entered but to legitimize silence and distance, distance of place, of time, bewildering accuracy of imagination and dream— I remember my childhood as a long wish to be elsewhere. This is the house; this must be the childhood I had in mind.