مسافر

[brains-aesthetics]

[brains-aesthetics]

[brains-aesthetics]

[brains-aesthetics]

i don't know what's sadder, to not have anyone to ask this from or to be with someone and still not be able to ask them of this.

[dk-thrive]

After some time my husband reached over to hold my hand, which reminded me that at least there was this, at least we still had hands that remembered how to love each other, two bone-and-flesh flaps that hadn't complicated their simple love by speaking or thinking or being disappointed or having memories. They just held and were held and that is all. Oh, to be a hand.

— Catherine Lacey, Nobody Is Ever Missing (FSG Originals, July 8, 2014)

[brains-aesthetics]

oh, to be a hand...

[anthropoetics]

wound. salt in the wound. salt in the wound. salt in the wound. lick. lick. it crystalizes. it leaves trace where i go. it heals. it doesn't heal. it becomes a new skin. it hurts. it turns to a wound again.

[metamorphesque]

Can I give you an idea for Word of the Day?

Cafuné

“The act of caressing or tenderly running fingers through a loved one's hair” 

That is a beautiful word, dear! Thank you 🧡

[spider-shoes-archive]

on meeting the right person at the wrong time, in the wrong place, or something like that

[mournfulroses]

Sophocles, from "Electra: A Tragedy," translated by Anne Carson

[flowerytale]

Jeanette Winterson, from Weight: The Myth of Atlas and Heracles

[brains-aesthetics]

[typicalabdullah]

Do the boundaries of the earth begin and end with our blood?

-Mahmoud Darwish, Journal of an Ordinary Grief

[ptolemaeal-deactivated20240104]

i get this ache and i thought it was for sex but it’s to tear everything to fucking pieces!

[ojibwa]

[qalbtalk-deactivated20231105]

“kaash hum kabhi na mile hote...”

awaaz dheemi hone se farq nahi parta. khaali diloon main unki goonj phir bhi sunai dayti hai.

“tumse pehle jo khali pan tha woh mera chunna hua tha. usse samjhauta kar k main mutmaeen thi. par itni beybas tou main tab bhi nahi thi jitna aaj khudh ko mehsoos kar rahi hoon. kitna akela kar diya hai tumne mujhe. main khudh se bichar gayi hoon.”

woh kuch na keh saka. sara kasoor hi alfaaz ka tha. adhoore wadoon ka. unn khwaboon ka jinka dhair un dono k beech deewaar ban chuka tha. woh cheekhta bhi to shayad woh sunn na paati...

woh dono yeh samajh hi nahi sake k alfaaz ki nabz nahi hoti. pyaar zinda rehta hai tou ehsaas se. uss khayal se jisko amli jama pehnaya ja saake na k baat kal pe muntaqil kar di jaye. aisa kal jo kisi ne nahi daikha.

...wohi kal jo woh nahi daikh paye.

[metamorphesque]

Loneliness does not come from having no people about one, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to oneself, or from holding certain views which others find inadmissible. 

Carl Jung, “Memories, Dreams, Reflections”

I am constantly trying to communicate something incommunicable, to explain something inexplicable, to tell about something I only feel in my bones and which can only be experienced in those bones. 

Franz Kafka, “Letters to Milena”

[soracities]

It’s so hard to speak and say things that cannot be said. It’s so silent.

—Clarice Lispector, Agua Viva

[latibule-e-deactivated20231012]

Do you understand yourself? You are attempting to express such inexpressible things.

— Henry Miller, from “A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller.”

[metamorphesque]

musings on september

― Dominic Riccitello, Huang O, Haruki Murakami, Karina Borowicz (artwork by Michael Dudash)