sighs and wonders

inspiration blog for serazienne

[1five1two]

'City Limits'. Shaun Tan. 2017.

[apoemaday]

My Gift to You

by Robert Bolaño tr. Laura Healy

My gift to you will be an abyss, she said, but it will be so subtle you’ll perceive it only after many years have passed and you are far from Mexico and me. You’ll find it when you need it most, and that won’t be the happy ending, but it will be an instant of emptiness and joy. And maybe then you’ll remember me, if only just a little.

[leahberman]

luminosity; death valley, california

instagram - twitter - website

[jca-archive]

TOKYO/ÉTRANGE RÉFLEXION by Jean d’Hugues

[pityroad]

— Forfeiting My Mystique, Kaveh Akbar, in '100 Queer Poems, an anthology' (2022)

[text ID: Some saints spent their whole childhoods biting their teachers' hands and / sprinkling salt into spider-webs, only to be redeemed by a fluke shock of grace just before death. May I feather into such a swan soon.]

[sometimestuesday-deactivated202]

TEXT 443-547-1797 TO REPORT THE END OF THE WORLD

The man on TV says, This is the big one, folks. The man says, Call your mother and say goodbye. To save themselves, thousands of people jump to the bottom of a river and turn into fish. Fish survive devastation. Fish don’t worry about whether they’re loved. What does it mean to “end” anyway? To be a person and then a body. To be a city and then a ruin. Maybe someone should give this world the Heimlich. Maybe it’ll cough up all the good people it swallowed and choked on too soon. I think the birds are in mourning. I think the trees feel sorry for us. Too bad about all that skin covering all those little bones. Too bad about that noise emanating from the heart, untranslatable and strange. How does the song go? Something about feeling fine. I put a note in your pocket that said: CALL ME WHEN YOU GET THERE. You never got there.

[aeide-thea]

Your Catfish Friend

If I were to live my life in catfish forms in scaffolds of skin and whiskers at the bottom of a pond and you were to come by    one evening when the moon was shining down into my dark home and stand there at the edge    of my affection and think, "It's beautiful here by this pond. I wish    somebody loved me," I'd love you and be your catfish friend and drive such lonely thoughts from your mind and suddenly you would be    at peace, and ask yourself, "I wonder if there are any catfish in this pond? It seems like a perfect place for them."

   —Richard Brautigan (1989)

[andtheyhummedofmystery]

Some of the difficulty with quantum mechanics has to reside in the problem of coming to terms with the simple fact that there is no such thing as information in and of itself independent of the apparatus necessary to its perception. There were no starry skies prior to the first sentient and ocular being to behold them. Before that all was blackness and silence.

And yet it moved.

- Cormac McCarthy, The Passenger

[godshaped]

Northern Lights paintings by Sydney Mortimer Laurence

[dailyrothko]

Untitled, 1963, Mark Rothko

at the Seattle Art Museum

[wiremothers-deactivated20230129]

[vugnasmineralblog]

Indicolite & Lepidolite Pederneira Mine, São José da Safira, Minas Gerais, Brazil

[saintsebastiensbf]

Mary Oliver, Peonies

[projectiondepartment]

fuck does anyone have that poem thats like the speaker used to press her ear to conch shells when she was a child but as an adult the world has closed its second mouth or something

[projectiondepartment]

I FOUND IT ITS SANITY BY CAROLINE BIRD

[linkinmoon]

[firstfullmoon]

Kim Addonizio, from “Stay,” in Now We’re Getting Somewhere [ID in alt text]

[mydearalgeria]

Algeria. Bejeweled hands of a Tuareg woman, near Tamanrasset. Frans Lemmens.