رکسانا

[et--cetera]

“ I think one of the biggest gifts from Death is for the living to be vulnerable with each other as we experience death in each other’s presence. The trust that death has the potential to create between people, and the space it creates for expression between us can be life-giving – the openness and understanding that people usually come to together through shared grief should be recognized. “  - Jeff Bierk

[piantine]

As I Was Moving Ahead Occasionally I Saw Brief Glimpses of Beauty (2000) dir. Jonas Mekas

[et--cetera]

[kundst]

Charlotte Salomon (Ger. 1917- Auschwitz 1943)
From “Life? or Theater?” 1940/42
Gouache

[et--cetera]

Dawn Clements

[et--cetera]

Jo Ann Callis

[jueki]

After the Storm 2016 ‘海よりもまだ深く’ Directed by Hirokazu Koreeda

[mauveflwrs]

Giorgio Morandi - Fiori (1924)

[terminusantequem]

Richard Diebenkorn (American, 1922-1993), Man and Woman Seated, 1958. Oil on canvas, 179.7 × 212.1 cm

[mothersofmyheart-deactivated202]

[niktipolos]

No, Anne Boyer (via hekat-e)

[et--cetera]

This ruptured syllogism - If I understand myself, I'll get better - made me question the way I'd come to worship self-awareness itself, a brand of secular humanism: Know thyself, and act accordingly. What if you reversed this? Act, and know thyself differently. Showing up for a meeting, for a ritual, for a conversation - this was an act that could be true no matter what you felt as you were doing it. Doing something without knowing if you believed it - that was proof of sincerity rather than its absence.

Leslie Jamison, “The Recovering”

[et--cetera]

de Kooning, “Door to the River”

[et--cetera]

[filmerditelle]

Birds at Sunrise, Joyce Wieland, 1986.

[et--cetera]

“Crush” by Ada Limon

Maybe my limbs are made mostly for decoration, like the way I feel about persimmons. You can’t really eat them. Or you wouldn’t want to. If you grab the soft skin with your fist it somehow feels funny, like you’ve been here before and uncomfortable, too, like you’d rather squish it between your teeth impatiently, before spitting the soft parts back up to linger on the tongue like burnt sugar or guilt. For starters, it was all an accident, you cut the right branch and a sort of light woke up underneath, and the inedible fruit grew dark and needy. Think crucial hanging. Think crayon orange. There is one low, leaning heart-shaped globe left and dearest, can you tell, I am trying to love you less.

[et--cetera]

Sarah Manguso 

[sashayed]

Gratitude

Do not think I am not grateful for your small kindness to me. I like small kindnesses. In fact I actually prefer them to the more substantial kindness, that is always eyeing you, like a large animal on a rug, until your whole life reduces to nothing but waking up morning after morning cramped, and the bright sun shining on its tusks.

Louise Glück