Stranger Things
todays bird
One Nice Bug Per Day
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
dirt enthusiast
No title available
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
No title available
Andulka
Cosimo Galluzzi
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
roma★
tannertan36
cherry valley forever
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Origami Around
izzy's playlists!
★
NASA
YOU ARE THE REASON
seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Norway
seen from Ukraine
seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Finland
seen from United States
seen from United States
@grannyguan
[from The New Yorker.]
If I had one tale to tell, I’d tell you about my dad and I.
A cathartic story of all the beautiful and wonderful things I never got to say. I’d narrate to you my life like you were him, things he would no doubt want to hear, but we were locked in an internal symmetry.
The two of us.
Filled with unspoken words, waiting for other to make a move first.
London
It's a parallel life another Guan could be living at the other end of the world. Maybe there is really another me that i not know of, living a life i'd find strangely familiar with a group of friends who will recognise me on the streets and memories of me alive in their heads. It's so funny how one’s life can be adjourned at this end of the earth and continued at the other. I think life is incredibly cruel this way – that no matter where I am, here or there, I’m always missing another.
December 2016e
December 2016
December 2016
December 2016
December 2016
December 2016
December 2016
December 2016
On Pensives & Art
I have words to say, but can’t put them down. For when Word finds himself licensed to paper, he’ll no longer warrant attention. So Word cleaves tightly to every lit neuron, draining mind space. But here I am murdering this thought by ceding it to paper. Yay.
Je m’em fous - paysage 8 (2011) by Agathe de Bailliencourt. [grabbed image from http://www.agathedeb.com/]
Brilliant lady showed a breathtaking installation at Hermes earlier this month. It was a piece for the select eye – the few who could see gentle lapping of the currents of time. They were a million mere pebbles and stones, but a brilliant mockery at the uncreative minds blinded in the presence of art.
It would have been a beautiful, poignant exhibition if not for the countless press crowded, who only paid heed to trivial words and frivolous talk.
That being said, am re-reading The Lonely City by Olivia Laing. It’s such a beautiful book that’s basically my life lent to print. Art resonates so profoundly with me year on year, for it gives utterance to the manifold emotions that I gradually am losing faculty to articulate.
The Voice
I do think that when you grab a writer – or anyone at that, a musician, a singer – by their neck, you clip their throats. They lose their voice. And what good is a singer without a voice. He will go down.