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@boundtothesea
Night and day. The Earth and Living Things. 1932.
Internet Archive
Yayoi Kusama, Rain, 1995
more
Fire
It’s only the body It’s only a hip joint It’s just a bulging disc It’s only weather It’s only your heart It’s a shoulder who needs it This happens all the time It’s very common It’s unusual For people your age For people your age You’re in great shape Remarkable shape It’s nothing you did The main thing is It’s temporary It’s only a doll In a house that’s burning
-Wyatt Townley
There are times when a feeling of expectancy comes to me, as if something is there, beneath the surface of my understanding, waiting for me to grasp it. It is the same tantalizing sensation when you almost remember a name, but don’t quite reach it. I can feel it when I think of human beings, of the hints of evolution suggested by the removal of wisdom teeth, the narrowing of the jaw no longer needed to chew such roughage as it was accostumed to; the gradual disappearance of hair from the human body; the adjustment of the human eye to fine print, the swift, colored motion of the twentieth century. The feeling comes, vague and nebulous, when I consider the prolonged adolesence of our species; the rites of birth, marriage and death; all the primitive, barbaric ceremonies streamlined to modern times. Almost, I think, unreasoning, bestial purity was best. Oh, something is there, waiting for me. Perhaps someday the revelation will burst in upon me and I will see the other side of this monumental grotesque joke. And then I’ll laugh. And then I’ll know what life is.
Sylvia Plath (via boundtothesea)
“i like my body when it is with your” by E. E. Cummings
Martin Puryear, Woodcut for edition of Cane, by Jean Toomer (1923)
The Fifth Element, 1997
René Quillivic, Le voilier, 1920