Erica Jong, from a poem titled "Dear Colette," featured in Loveroot: Poems, originally published in 1975
occasionally subtle
I'd rather be in outer space đž
$LAYYYTER
noise dept.

Origami Around
Sweet Seals For You, Always
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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Kiana Khansmith
Jules of Nature
Xuebing Du
Monterey Bay Aquarium

if i look back, i am lost
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Three Goblin Art
AnasAbdin

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DEAR READER
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@dayfires
Erica Jong, from a poem titled "Dear Colette," featured in Loveroot: Poems, originally published in 1975
LOVE IS A HOUSE
"I never wanted kids, actually." Maybe it was a stray thought between the madness in her daily routine. These are words from the same woman that raised him alone. But maybe that was the problem, she was alone for so much of it. Life had always been a little difficult and no sure sign that it could get better. "Is that why I'm an only child?" he jests.
A LOVER IS A HOME
When the holidays near, Thanh does her best to overlook her differences with family. Duy's father was a questionable man but she felt a desperate need to give her son a "full" (that's how she'd describe it) life. This year, Duy seemed more resistant to showing up to the gathering. She insists that it would be nice to spend time with his cousins, but she could sense that despite sitting with the same people and talking about the same things, her boy found a way to outgrow it all.
LOVE IS A HOUSE
"I never wanted kids, actually." Maybe it was a stray thought between the madness in her daily routine. These are words from the same woman that raised him alone. But maybe that was the problem, she was alone for so much of it. Life had always been a little difficult and no sure sign that it could get better. "Is that why I'm an only child?" he jests.
Background
By allegiance of his family, Hanbinâs views should have aligned themselves to sympathize with his father or those seeking to understand Hanjae's behavior. However, his relationship with his father was thwarted upon the strikes he passed to his mother. In attempt to to come to her aid, the boy was attacked as well. âIâm doing this because I love you,â Hanjae had told him. It became a daily reminder. Everything he did seemed to be because he âlovedâ Hanbinâthough it seemed to rework itself into anger and confusion when his mother leaves home. In times of joy, the Choi family would be one of joy, but as soon as Hanjae put a hand on alcohol or simply grew agitated, porcelain would fly and skin would bruise. Worse happens when Yubin's divorce papers show up in the mail. Hanbin hated his father because he told him there was love when there wasnât.
bite the hand
Modern Myth
Are you hopeful? It's a recurring question since Jeongbin's death. Yang Hyein sits beside him on the piano stool (he makes room for her and extends his arm to reach the key at the beginning of the case). Though it's not like it's any good. Jeonghwan's fingers stutter over the ivory and his palm stiffens. He's a thing of tired bones but the bones in his hands are no longer his own.
Sometimes, when his exhaustion is a too loud to ignore, he thinks back to when he was a kid and his brother wouldn't stop shouting no matter what he did. Jeongbin was always a little too angry all the time. Heâs exhausted like when his brother still left him despite all he did, and it was suddenly too quiet. Heâs had hope before. It's like holding a light, but the thing with light is that it's not real. Not in any way that matters, at least. He tries his best to not treat it that way, tries his best to pretend it wouldn't slip out from between his fingers at any time. Breathing too hard feels like a grand mistake (and any mistake could send that light away).
LA JAVANAISE â± Yang Hyein (...) entwining her fingers with his she looks up and gives jeonghwan a small smile, trying to put on a somewhat brave face despite her racing heart beat and uneasy smile giving here away. / "anything you want, i'll make it for you."
He'd leave as quietly as he came. They've been at this for awhile: the late night passing through. A part of Jeonghwan is sure he loved Yang Hyein before he even knew it. The Lee daughter sure knew. She never did tell anyone but maybe that wasn't the blessing he initially thought it was. Though as much as their families would prefer it, their affection was not unfounded. Mostly unspoken, yes, but he kept her words and secrets safest in his mind. Maybe he tucked it somewhere between his lungs to live and breathe her burdens alongside her. "I'll be good," he mumbles. 'I'll be good' because he really couldn't ever get rid of that schoolboy veneerânot when sheâs as kind as she is to him. 'I'll be good' because leaving Hyein is never easy and he'd have to gather as much as he could of himself and find ways to leave behind the part of himself that he keeps with her. Jeonghwan knows Hyein (more than he thinks but not much as he'd like). She gives him suggestions, she holds him with what he hopes is love. Regardless, he smiles into her shirt because heâs grateful. So thankful that he doesn't have to dream of her, that he doesn't have to wish to be next to her because they were in fact, exchanging breaths between comfort and confessions. And Jeonghwan is in fact, counting the the rise and fall of each beat he feels from Hyein. He doesn't comment on it, he just presses a shy, airy kiss her shoulder and does his best to commit this moment to memory. He practically brushes past her. "Kimchi sounds good. Can I help?" His fingers rub at her knuckles and trace the lines on her palm. "⊠I'm going away for a little. My mother found a doctor in the city. Might be a moment before I'm useful again." ... "But it's not a big deal." He returns her sure smile. "You're braver than I am. I have to work harder, don't I?" ... "You're the bravest person I know." Giving credit where itâs due.
Gambling Mathematics: House Edge
Byungho takes a backseat in most of his interactions. Around most people his age, he acted as a mere shadowâsome things were not worth his engagement. However, for those who are able to peak his interest, they find that he is effective, stealthy, preciseâall traits that garner praise. Before rising to the occasion, he made the time to proceed with proper judgment. It left room for negotiation and strategy, which ultimately ensured that he would rarely ever be the one who carried out the punishment. Initially, Byungho felt displaced in Namgilâs company and pastime activities. He wondered how the two were friends to begin with; he was if anything, a stark contrast to the prodigal Jeon son. Iâll think about it. Because before he was his own man, he was his fatherâs. So when Namgil first drops into a casino with Byungho trailing behind, the Nam son considers the three common vices that Byungchul (his father) believed to be the potential downfall of any man: gambling, smoking, and women. Itâs outdated.
ĂȘtre rouge de colĂšre et de tristesse
2012. Admiration is a selfish thing. It belongs to the observer, not the person who is looked at. When Park Jeonghwan thinks of everything that could have been, it feels like his time lamenting on events and people of the past is selfish. In many ways, it is.Â
His own existence served as a sort of reminder.
He reminisces in private, to the point where his wine runs past the rim of the glass. the VCR scratches and recoils at the replay. There were times where he dusted off his violin case and played with the bridge of his violin. It starts as excuses: the string snapped, the tuner is struggling, and heâs always too distracted.Â
LA JAVANAISE â± Yang Hyein (...) he has all the sense his brother lacked. / dragging him along to the bathroom, she pauses just before they enter the confined space. / "you can stay the night if you'd like," she finally says, "i'd rather if you did honestly, just in case."
"No," he admits. It's meant to be a thought but truth leads in Hyeinâs presence. Itâs subconscious: his desire to seek her forgiveness for all of his brotherâs wrongs. Itâs not like he knows what to expect or how heâd even begin to repent for his brother. But he starts with bearing what he can of himself to the Yang daughter. That was the difference between him and Jeongbinâhis other half was never afraid to take up space. He took up so much space that Jeonghwan practically disappeared. Thereâs nothing like living so far within oneself that theyâve managed to lay claim to the backseat of their own life.
Jeonghwan feels afraid to take anything from Hyein, even if she offers it. But hungry dogs are still dogs. The Park boy leans one cheek into her palm. In these moments, he wonder if Hyeinâs care is from a place of sympathy or pity. He decides that the two can coexistâhe is after all, a sorry example of a Park. The second son of the second son. He allows himself to linger at her touch. He'd likely die like that: devastated and in the palm of her hand.
âWould that be okay?â Which is interchangeably, âAre you not ashamed of me?â Sometimes he thinks itâs all that Jeongbin left him: shame. And grief. The gnawing in his feet settles in and he feels the soles of his feet sting. "Can we make something warm to eat?" he asks this as he leans himself against the sink and feels the water run in between his fingers. The hand tremors are backâa fair reaction following the events in the forest. When he dries off his hands (on his button up), he uses Hyein's arms to steady himself enough to sit on the rim of her bath. "Sorry for showing up unannounced." Jeonghwan leans into her side and closes his eyes. "I must've startled you, I'm sorry."
LA JAVANAISE â± Yang Hyein there are nicer ways to express concern, sheâs sure, but they all escape her in the moment and fear gives way to irritation as she looks over him, âhave you even been home yet? you look like you walked here straight from the forest.â
Thereâs something arguably vain about the way Jeonghwan hurts. He laments, people pity him. They use their self-control, he loses his self-control. Grace was something he felt entitled to. His lighter burns to the flick, flick from his thumb, and then he decides that Jeongbinâs laughter is hard to forget. Itâs the most conscious thought heâs had since the funeral. Nam chunjaâs death reminds him of many things. The loss of a loved one in particular, even if they werenât all that close. He used to visit her estate to play music for her; she was enthusiastic about classical music and allowed him to dabble in jazz. Jeonghwan was now left with the lingering thought of: I owe everyone a little more. See, he came across a crumbled letter in the home office. Itâs addressed to Jeonghwan of all people, requesting that he played for Chunjaâs service. That explains his motherâs gruff demeanor that morning. He tries not to think much of it.
"do you think i'm entitled?" darius' words are caught in her tresses. she doesn't answerâwhat did she really know about him? he whispers into the crook of her neck and it clings to her earlobe. she pours them back into the corner of his lips.
this is a conversation, this is how we talk
what they didn't tell you about love is that it will find its way back safely to you
in my native language, the word for admiration also means 'to watch'. in both instances, it belongs to the person who looks, not the person who is looked at. when i think of you, it feels like iâm doing something selfishâi barely get away with it. admiring you, wondering about you, liking you; this is all something that's done for my own benefit. when i see you, i am quieted. this is less of a compliment to you and more a fault of mine. i take peace in you and i take peace from you (i'm sorry, i'll leave it all alone). it is a mercenary act.
there's a version of you that i do not have but did not lose