vetus anima

Soon, you will have forgotten all things, and soon all things will have forgotten you.

[chal-s]

an old soul misplaced in a modern world.

[chal-s]

It felt like there was no need for describing it at all. The more i described it the more vague it became. It lost its meaning on the imprints and as such, the unmined emotions were best felt when raw and devoid of interpretation.

[chal-s]

I was never your love, I was a newly found replacement of the love you ideated to give.

Unsent letters, June

[chal-s]

I now pass the streets I walked on as a sound that once existed, an echo of was. Pixels of the frames I created along these streets now orient into memory. Remarkable how mother time is always pregnant with memory.

[chal-s]

Love said: I will hold you. Understanding whispered: I already know where it hurts. One sooths the heart, the other touches your soul.

[chal-s]

I am out of blood to write to you anymore. My hands are pale and i need to drink water to at least be useful to the plants on my grave.

Imaginary letters to- June-20-2025

[chal-s]

*finger shoots her on behalf of cupid

[poetic-questions]

—Anaïs Nin, "The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934"

[chal-s]

why?

[chal-s]

"Philosophy leads to death, sociology leads to suicide." Do both and you turn into a madman.

[chal-s]

I jolted every time i felt the need to share any of the films which were dear, its felt like giving oneself to their introspection... analogies... transcriptions. A sheep offering itself to the slaughterhouse just to get it done.

[chal-s]

Perceive or be perceived you can only control one

[chal-s]

"The mind is its own place and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven."

Satan in Paradise Lost by Joe Milton

[chal-s]

February is nearly always melancholy

Anna de Noailles - Your Hidden Fleshly Grace

[chal-s]

I am only interested in women who scalp themselves into a project of self-transformation

[mahoganyamore]

death and i have been scandalously close for some time now

[chal-s]

Society is all diluted these days.

No one feels what they genuinely feel. It’s always a borrowed feeling no matter how real it might seem.

Oh Gregor, what are you doing under my bed?

[chal-s]

Lust is bleak. And love is void in me. It’s my devout nature to show love. Content I be.

My lost and found journal (Oct 2022)