blue is the warmest color

the lulling of the sea swallowed me, yet i can finally breathe freely

[imtangible]

Cornelia Funke, Inkheart (Inkworld, #1) / Meredith T. Taylor, Clashing Waters: The Obyascon Prince (The Churning Waters Saga #2) / Valentin Serov, Iphigenia in Tauris / Snow White Blood, Longing For the Sea / Melody Lee, Moon Gypsy / Kate Chopin, The Awakening and Selected Short Fiction / Antoine Verglas, Sea Cliff / John Masefield, Sea-Fever / Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Secret of the Sea

[metamorphesque]

Arrival (2016), Signs (2002)… the bottomline is this: we are a species that requires a mirror from another galaxy just to see our own reflection. In science fiction, aliens so often become the most effective lens through which we grasp the simplest truths about human nature and experience. When we look at an alien, we see a blank slate that forces us to reconcile with what it actually means to be "us". We distrust what is ordinary and intimate, yet we readily study and explore what is foreign and extraordinary. We are obsessed with the "Other" because we are alienated from ourselves. We require the arrival of the "Other" to finally acknowledge the "Self". We look to the sky not to find something better than us, but to find a version of ourselves that still feels worthy and miraculous. It is a cosmic irony that the further we reach into the unknown, the closer we get to the simple, terrestrial truth of what it means to be human, to be alive. Perhaps we need aliens not because we are fascinated by the unknown, but because we are too evasive about what we already know. (t.s.)

[feral-ballad]

Margarita Karapanou, tr. by Karen Emmerich, from Rien ne va plus

[Text ID: “You were always leaving. I always picture you with a suitcase in your hand. I can’t picture you sitting at a desk. I always see you in motion.”]

[enchantedbook]

'A Midsummer Night's Dream' -Titania, 1893, Edwin Austin Abbey.

[the-framed-maelstrom]

You must be strong enough for this truth: you are not the life in you. You do not exist. No claim of “mine” holds. You do not possess Life—it possesses you, a burden you bear. It’s a lunar phantasm to think this “Self” endures beyond the body’s decay. Can’t you see this flesh binds your being, its every faculty—however solar or exalted—swayed by illness, trauma, or chance? Now, detach from this false self and cross the threshold, sensing the rhythmic analogy deepen into the telluric shadows of the force sustaining your form. Here it sheds name and individuation. This sensation stretches, merging “me” and “not-me,” pervading nature, upholding time, sweeping myriad beings—drunk, mesmerized—in its relentless, wild, limitless flow, ablaze with an eternal void and lack. Say to yourself: “This is.” If this truth turns back upon you, a kali-yuga frost chilling your core, an abyss yawning beneath—“I exist in this”—then you’ve seized the waters’ knowledge.

Julius Evola: Techniques for the Magi (Evola Edition)

[funeral]

David Janzen, The Violent Gift: Trauma's Subversion of the Deuteronomistic History's Narrative

[funeral]

The Little Girl of Hanoi (1974) dir. Hải Ninh

[mournfulroses]

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter featured in Letters to Merline, 1919-1922

[mournfulroses]

Trista Mateer, from a poem featured in her collection titled The Dogs I Have Kissed

[thisistheworldofgays]

you shouldnt kill yourself because frankly its such an overdone and unoriginal response to emotional pain, and ill be entirely honest you just cannot pull it off or make it interesting like itd really just be embarrassing for you like do something original

[heateron]

- leonard cohen

[thepinkpestilence]

Breaking Bad/ANAZED-И я/ William-Adolphe Bouguereau-Dante and Virgil in Hell/Lev St. Valentine/Emily Brontë-Wuthering Heights/Mabel-Episode Twenty-Eight: Matryoshka/Luna Lu-“Anatomy of a Hug”

[terrorignitis]

Juansen Dizon, i am the architect of my own destruction

[funeral]

The only content of the self that we know is the ego. 'The individuated ego senses itself as the object of an unknown and superordinate subject.' Concerning its contents we cannot say more. In any such attempt we come up against the limits of our knowledge. For we can only experience the self. If we are determined to characterize it, we can only say with Jung that it is 'a kind of compensation for the conflict between inside and outside. . . . So too the self is our life's goal, for it is the completest expression of that fateful combination we call individuality, the full flowering not only of the single individual but of the group, in which each adds his portion to the whole.' And here again we have a reference to something that cannot be defined in conceptual terms but apprehended only in experience.

Jolande Jacobi, The Psychology of C.G. Jung

[bsideboy-deactivated20241004]

how it feels

[geryone]

Hey if one more thing happens at work I’m going to die

[mournfulroses]

Charles Baudelaire, from a letter featured in The Selected Letters of Charles Baudelaire