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maruti-bitamin

canopy

twitter/ insta/cara/ store

sacredarch

body/object

the relationship of the body to the artificial body

(october 2001)

larobeblanche

William-Adolphe Bouguereau (French, 1825-1905) • Meditation • 1901 • Cincinnati Art Museum, Cincinnati, Ohio

syphoning-gasoline

Validation Salivation

how do you gauge a life's completion

the lichens and berried wombs

to glance through opaque eye

the sprawling fingers

pleading/pillaging

"a full life"

finita--la--commedia

“I thought your soul was greater and more worthy of mine, for I have loved you with all the love there is in my heart. You’re killing what life I still have, you blow everything away with one puff as though it were a mere spider’s web. I have nothing left in the world, nothing left in life. You love me, and yet you are killing me. You destroy my happiness and your own. I was beginning to amass in my heart so much love and happiness. You are crazy and I am crazier still. But don’t you know that I belong to you body and soul? Like a woman who has made a pact. If my happiness alone depended on your love, I would run away from you, for one can do without happiness—and, besides, in this area I haven’t developed any bad habits—but your love is necessary to me for life itself. I love you with all my strength, away from you I die.”

— Juliette Drouet (1806-1883) in a letter to Victor Hugo (1802-1885), dated 1833, in: “ My beloved Toto: letters from Juliette Drouet to Victor Hugo, 1833–1882″, translated from the French by Victoria Tietze Larson

finita--la--commedia

“I have nothing to do close to you. I did not love you enough and you did not love me enough for me to settle my final accounts with you. I must manage alone and die alone. I waited for years for you to forgive my faults and accept me as I was. You never did. I therefore kept my faults, I remained guilty, and today I must put myself in order with these faults alone. Leave me. Forgive me, then, the pain that I have caused you. And if you can, forgive me from the bottom of your heart. That is what I need most, though, the privation that for years has prevented me from living. If your heart remembers nothing but the love it has for me, this would be the salvation in death that I could not have in life.”

— Albert Camus (1913-1960), from “Notebooks 1951-1959″, translated from the French by Ryan Bloom