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AnasAbdin

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RMH

ellievsbear

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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Mike Driver

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Sweet Seals For You, Always

JBB: An Artblog!
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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i don't do bad sauce passes
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One Nice Bug Per Day

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@dantesmuse
[…] genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.
T. S. Eliot, from ‘Dante’
on nostalgia
the handmaids tale, margaret atwood// @firstfullmoon // @stigmatawife // @jb-blunk // forever winter, taylor swift// @an-attempt-at-living // the memory of a memory, katie maria // erica jong // secrets from a girl whos seen it all, lorde; poster by mlgrsdesign// ? // @n1ntendos // @fairycosmos // @inanotherunivrse //@robertszombie // @notbigthief
Lori Nix and Kathleen Gerber
Humming Birds, 2009
thinking about how orpheus turning to look back at eurydice isn’t a sign of mortal frailness but a sign of love
THE SPACE BETWEEN US (1, 2, 3, 4)
“Μιλούσαν. Ίσως εκείνη πιο πολύ. κάποια φορά γέλασε. “Με κάνεις να φαίνομαι…, να γίνομαι φλύαρη όταν με κοιτάς με αυτό το βλέμμα”. Της ανταπέδωσε το χαμόγελο. “Τι έχει το βλέμμα μου;” … Τι είχε το βλέμμα του; Μήπως ήξερε κι ο ίδιος τι ακριβώς κρυβόταν μέσα στον τρόπο που την κοιτούσε. Έλεγε πως ήταν αγάπη κι έρωτας, έλεγε πως υπήρχαν στιγμές που φανέρωνε και πόθο, όμως, όχι, δεν ήταν μόνο αυτά. Ήταν και μια αμφιβολία, ένα ερωτηματικό. Αγάπη; Έρωτας; Πόθος; Κι αν ναι, αν η απάντηση ήταν ένα χιλιοποθημένο “ναι”, τότε… Τότε υπήρχαν στιγμές που φοβόταν. Η αγάπη σ’ ανεβάζει στα ουράνια. Η αγάπη σε ρίχνει στα τάρταρα. Φοβότανε..”
— Μάνος Κοντολέων, Γεύση πικραμύγδαλου.
― Respire (2014) Charlie: Nietzsche says it’s easier to renounce passion than control it. Meaning we become so preoccupied by it that we lose a kind of freedom.
See for me that her hair’s hanging down. That’s the way i remember her best.
όλοι ξεχνάνε και όλα ξεχνιούνται
Who is the real subject of most love poems? Not the beloved. It is the hole. When I desire you, a part of me is gone: my want of you partakes of me. So reasons the lover at the edge of eros. The presence of want awakens in him nostalgia for wholeness. His thoughts turn toward questions of personal identity: he must recover and reincorporate what is gone if he is to be a complete person. […] Most people find something disturbingly lucid and true in Aristophanes’ image of lovers as people cut in half. All desire is for a part of oneself gone missing, or so it feels to the person in love.
Anne Carson, Eros the Bittersweet: An Essay.
Bravo, Dolan
Euripides, from “Orestes”, An Oresteia (trans. Anne Carson)