nothing to see here @ghosterie - Tumblr Blog

To The People I Pass On The Train At Night - Jordan Bolton

My first book ‘Blue Sky Through the Window of a Moving Car’ is now available to pre-order! Get it here - https://smarturl.it/BlueSky

bossymarmalade

Emilia W. Olsen, “Free Palestine” (2023)

borderlinebaby420

my favorite conspiracy theory is that they regret what they did to me

conk-la-ree

isarart

Don't Forget 3.Oct.

espressouls

raposabranca-art

Don't stare, it's just the young'uns from the alchemist's house up the hill.

#they are so Dear to me #fmab #art

mitskiacoustic

mioxenoblade

I just woke up after a 75 year nap what day is it

Go fight Calamity Ganon

hyrude

i’m staying with my parents a couple weeks until my new apartment is ready so they sit and watch me play zelda whenever they have a minute. and they always say stuff like “doesn’t link get lonely?” and “don’t you think he’s tired from running everywhere?” and “does he have a home?” like exactly exactly thats what i’m always saying. they have got to get on tumblr

metaphrasis

“I, too, feel the need to reread the books I have already read,“ a third reader says, “but at every rereading I seem to be reading a new book, for the first time. Is it I who keep changing and seeing new things of which I was not previously aware? Or is reading a construction that assumes form, assembling a great number of variables, and therefore something that cannot be repeated twice according to the same pattern? Every time I seek to relive the emotion of a previous reading, I experience different and unexpected impressions, and do not find again those of before. At certain moments it seems to me that between one reading and the next there is a progression: in the sense, for example, of penetrating further into the spirit of the text, or of increasing my critical detachment. At other moments, on the contrary, I seem to retain the memory of the readings of a single book one next to another, enthusiastic or cold or hostile, scattered in time without a perspective, without a thread that ties them together. The conclusion I have reached is that reading is an operation without object; or that its true object is itself. The book is an accessory aid, or even a pretext.”

— Italo Calvino, If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler

papayajuan2019

part of accepting love for me also requires accepting grief, dissolution. my pets will die, my friends may drift from me, lovers may have a change of heart. none of it makes the love in vain. part of accepting love is accepting movement. but love is mostly letting myself get lost in the moment, i am learning. letting myself be fully alive in the now. i dont always need to think that far ahead all the time. the potential exists now.