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This stunning sunset reflects off a body of water in the Okavango Delta, Chobe National Park, Botswana, 1988. (Photo: Frans Lanting)
Susan Sontag, As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks, 1964-1980
Amsterdam
🍩✨ Bread Ahead Doughnuts, Borough Market 🍩✨
me touching a cat, a feat in itself! this one was cute, roaming the streets of Zunderdorp, Amsterdam last week.
01: The Framberry
The creating and eating of food has always been synonymous with love and contentment for me, and so sharing it feels personal. This is by no means a unique feeling, and I am by no means an accomplished cook or food writer, but here I am anyway.
Blueberry pancakes at Manuka Kitchen Fulham Road. This was brunch with a friend who I lost in touch with after being close in school for 2-3 years. When we reconnected, it was like no time had passed. She’s objectively one of the best people I have ever known and a magnificently fierce friend to have in your corner. Also, I’d always been meaning to go to this place, and I’m glad it was with her (and the adorable tiny dog at the table next door). I’m so glad our friendship what it is today.
Van Gogh’s Irises, 1890
Prints available on Etsy
Architecture of the Mexican modernist Luis Barragán
Surface to Air
After the transplant, I waited for my transformation into a glossy and upbeat Survivor with an aggressive ‘Life Coach’ vibe. It did not come. My piano teacher told me about a friend of hers who survived cancer and threw herself into practising the piano and her dedication made her that much better and she keeps entering competitions all the time because life is short and she spends each minute to the full.
I didn’t do that.
I am thrashing around to keep my head above water in the bath-tub of “self care” because it is the easiest thing to drown in the comfort of laziness. I have relinquished myself to a pair of laissez-faire guardians, and they’re both me; one is aloof and the other, timid. Their permissiveness has me oscillating between being appropriately gentle with myself and ruining my life, the anxiety is present either way.
Occasionally my (?old ?real) self breaks through and I greet her like an old friend I’ve run into on the way back from the shops like, “I didn’t know you lived around here!”, and she’s rightly incredulous, “Yeah, no, I’ve always lived here, I’m always around but you’re always surprised to see me. Hey can I please help you unpack all that crap you’ve got there?”
After the transplant, I was quietly thankful. I was loud enough in thanking and loving whom I had to, but how do you begin to thank someone who sacrificed so much of their life for you? I am lucky and undeserving. I feel so grateful and so guilty. These dichotomies are double-helixed into every cell now, mostly unconscious, always unrelenting.
I talk about it in a comedic way often enough to worry that it may crystallise into something funny and belie the complexity of how something so undeniably positive was overwhelmingly brutal. We make kidney jokes, my friends and I, and just today I pitched my shortened life expectancy in the air and batted it away with a laugh, ignoring the extra large font “15 to 20 years” sign flashing neon red around my peripheral vision. Sometimes, when we make kidney jokes, I see something waver in my friends’ expressions when they wonder if they or I have gone too far, and that this actually isn’t funny. Somewhere, Hannah Gadsby is shrugging her shoulders, exasperated.
I am so lucky to be here. I never truly considered that I might die. Both of these things are true.
I am so loved that she didn’t even hesitate when making the decision to donate her kidney to me. I feel guilty. Both of those things are true.
I would’ve made the same decision if the roles were reversed, but I didn’t have to be put in the position, so this is meaningless. I am so, so loved.
I have a responsibility to myself to look after myself and love myself as fiercely as I am loved by my family and best friends. I am emancipating myself from my current shitty guardians and reinstating old tumblr-blogging me. We have a lot of catching up to do.
MANGO SZN
http://christopherjr.vsco.co/media/550c782ce3551578638b459f
Mitski, 27/09/18. A perfect night watching a dreamy, gorgeous performance with wonderful friends. (at O2 Shepherds Bush Empire)
The walls of the monastery are so intricately painted I wanted four hours to study each and every one of them. Tibetan Golden Temple at Coorg, Karnataka.