[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Trista Mateer, from “i still forget we’re not even friends”

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Traci Brimhall, Dear Eros

[mournfulroses]

Jeanette Winterson, from "Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal," publ. in 2011

[toiich]

Hidemi Kon

[mournfulroses]

Jeanette Winterson, from "Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal," publ. in 2011

[wovi]

*

anna świrszczyńska, i’ll open the window

[poetrylesbian]

“By morning / I had vanished at least a dozen times / into something better.”

— Mary Oliver, from “Sleeping in the Forest,” Twelve Moons, Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver (via lifeinpoetry)

[sontagspdf]

James Baldwin in conversation with Nikki Giovanni

[dk-thrive]

Time steps on us. Under its shoes, another week has gone by. (…) I would like to preserve something of what I experience. Preserve something from Now. From today. From this moment. Time is made of sand.

— Thomas Vinau, "Carnet de bord assis tout au bord du temps" in "Comme un lundi: Carnet de bord assis tout au bord du temps." (La Fosse aux Ours, August 23, 2018)

[anditslove]

Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

[elizabethanism]

"Each morning two grinning gremlins sit at the foot of the bed. One is named Lethargy and one is called Fear. Either will gladly eat us alive."

James Hollis

Tracking The Gods

[lascitasdelashoras]

Horst Tappe, Ezra Pound, 1965

[onetwofeb]

Alain Resnais, Hiroshima Mon Amour, 1959

[metamorphesque]

The Cathedral, Auguste Rodin (1840 -1917)

[violentcherries]

all i need

2020

[mesogeios]

Chiharu Shiota with her work photographed by Sunhi Mang

[calliop-e]

Clarice Lispector, tr. by Idra Novey, from The Passion According to G.H