Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous
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Love Begins
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Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous
Palestinian lady collects gas bombs fired by Israeli army. She grows flowers in these bombs.
“I don’t know what I want, only that I’m desperate for it, that I can’t stop asking.”
— Kim Addonizio, from “The Singing”
“Snow is falling in my ribs & / still, I wish for winter. There must be moments / when even the birds want to be birds.”
— Logan February, from “Even The Birds”, Painted Blue with Saltwater (Indolent Books, 2018)
Stydia + Clinging
#THEY ARE IN LOVE
https://www.instagram.com/p/CB-3anNAz-m/?igshid=spksvvi9yrg8
“I carry the fruit of early summer in woven wooden baskets to put into iced water, garnished with basil and rosemary.”
Fyodor Dostoyevsky, White Nights
“Do not worry / if you find nothing. This is what I tell myself. / Do not / worry. The search / alone is beautiful.”
— Omar Sakr, from “How to endure the final hours,” The Lost ArabsÂ
Madison Bailey and Rudy Pankow as Kiara and JJ in Outer Banks (2020)
“Nearly everyone I know feels that some quality of concentration they once possessed has been destroyed. Reading books has become hard; the mind keeps wanting to shift from whatever it is paying attention to to pay attention to something else. A restlessness has seized hold of many of us, a sense that we should be doing something else, no matter what we are doing, or doing at least two things at once, or going to check some other medium. It’s an anxiety about keeping up, about not being left out or getting behind. (Maybe it was a landmark when Paris Hilton answered her mobile phone while having sex while being videotaped a decade ago). The older people I know are less affected because they don’t partake so much of new media, or because their habits of mind and time are entrenched. The really young swim like fish through the new media and hardly seem to know that life was ever different. But those of us in the middle feel a sense of loss. I think it is for a quality of time we no longer have, and that is hard to name and harder to imagine reclaiming. My time does not come in large, focused blocks, but in fragments and shards. The fault is my own, arguably, but it’s yours too – it’s the fault of everyone I know who rarely finds herself or himself with uninterrupted hours. We’re shattered. We’re breaking up. It’s hard, now, to be with someone else wholly, uninterruptedly, and it’s hard to be truly alone. The fine art of doing nothing in particular, also known as thinking, or musing, or introspection, or simply moments of being, was part of what happened when you walked from here to there alone, or stared out the train window, or contemplated the road, but the new technologies have flooded those open spaces. Space for free thought is routinely regarded as a void, and filled up with sounds and distractions.”
—
Rebecca Solnit.
“Right now we need to articulate these subtle things, this richer, more expansive quality of time and attention and connection, to hold onto it. Can we? The alternative is grim, with a grimness that would be hard to explain to someone who’s distracted.” - Rebecca Solnit.
(via kuanios)
Wild horses enjoy the oceanÂ
(Source)
Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena
Walt Whitman, Song of Myself