AnasAbdin

@theartofmadeline

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Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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titsay

Love Begins
almost home
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@hellonach
- Maurice (1987) - Call Me by Your Name (2017)
call me by your name, andré aciman.
Oliver: Is there anything you don’t know?
Elio: I know nothing, Oliver.
Oliver: Well, you seem to know more than anyone else around here.
Elio: Well, if you only knew how little I really know about the things that matter.
Oliver: What “things that matter?”
Elio: You know what things.
Oliver: Why are you telling me this?
Elio: Because I thought you should know.
Oliver: Because you thought I should know?
Elio: Because I wanted you to know.
“Zwischen Immer und Nie, for you in silence, somewhere in Italy in the mid-eighties”
DON’T FORGET TO REBLOG/LIKE
Oliver: Wait for me here. Don’t go away.
Elio: You know I’m not going anywhere.
“I’m not sure I want to go ahead with this, but I need to know, and better with you than anyone else. I want to know your body, I want to know how you feel, I want to know you, and through you, me.”
— André Aciman (via goodreads)
call me by your name (andré aciman) lockscreens - requested by anonymous
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What I didn’t realize was that wanting to test desire is nothing more than a ruse to get what we want without admitting that we want it. Call Me By Your Name.
minimalist lockscreens: call me by your name
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‘I’m like you’, he said. 'I remember’.
Creator 👉 https://www.instagram.com/mythsroller/
Help me Jesus
the academy award for best film editing goes to
Good lord in heaven the shade
Does it ever fuck you up to think that Elio’s name is contained inside of Oliver’s?
To say that Elio is, and will forever be a part of Oliver. Somehow this brings more meaning to everything about their relationship and the quotes:
“Call me by your name and I’ll call you by mine.”
Or are “being” and “having” thoroughly inaccurate verbs in the twisted skein of desire, where having someone’s body to touch and being that someone we’re longing to touch are one and the same, just opposite banks on a river that passes from us to them…
He was my secret conduit to myself - like a catalyst that allows us to become who we are, a foreign body, the pacer, the graft, the patch that sends all the right impulses, the steel pin that keeps a soldier’s bone together, the other man’s heart that makes us more us than we were before the transplant.
“I believe with every cell in my body that every cell in yours must not, must never, die, and if it does have to die, let it die inside my body.”
He was more me than I had ever been myself.
I was thinking, instead, of Emily Bronte’s words: because “he’s more myself than I am.”