La Morte est un sommeil eternel:

"Read like a butterfly, Write like a bee." Derek. Writer.

[weltenwellen]

Glennon Doyle, Untamed

[weltenwellen]

Gentlest of Bleeding Things  Ali Choudhary

[weltenwellen]

good m(ourning)  Najya Williams

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Mark Doty, "White Kimono" in Sweet Machine

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— via costar

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Maya C. Popa, Wound is the Origin of Wonder: Poems: “All inner life runs at some delay” (via letsbelonelytogetherr)

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

“It wasn't about anything so shallow

as physical desire.

They wanted each other in the way of flesh wanting to knit itself together over a wound.”

— Micah Nemerever, "These Violent Delights"

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— emily brontë; wuthering heights

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

[weltenwellen]

Resmaa Menakem, My Grandmother’s Hands: Racialized Trauma and the Pathway to Mending Our Hearts and Bodies

[weltenwellen]

Andrea Gibson, Lord of the Butterflies

[journalofanobody]

Tanka

Dreams are all I have,

dreams and irrational hopes–

and the birds at dawn.

Little to get through my day,

for now it will have to do.

– Michael Boiano

[journalofanobody]

“The sum of a life, less than its parts.”

— Elias Canetti

[weltenwellen]

Kaveh Akbar, from “No is a Complete Sentence", Calling a Wolf a Wolf

[sasukehoe]

Respectfully, Ireland is the best country on the planet

[skywardstrapon]

from the same thread:

[lavenderoceanss]

I once wore green cargo pants with a black hoodie in Belfast in the mid 2000s and two separate people yelled "alright there Kim Possible?"

[seemoreandmore]

First you destroy those who create values. Then you destroy those who know what the values are, and who also know that those destroyed before were in fact the creators of values. But real barbarism begins when no one can any longer judge or know that what he does is barbaric.

- Ryszard Kapuściński

[seemoreandmore]

When it hurts we return to the banks of certain rivers.

— Czesław Miłosz from "I Sleep A Lot" The Collected Poems 1931— 1987. (The Ecco Press; First Edition edition 1988)

[seemoreandmore]

At every sunrise I renounce the doubts of night and greet the new day of a most precious delusion.

- Czesław Miłosz