she is lost quelque part au monde

The way toward heaven is inward.

[infinite-garden]

Andy Goldsworthy.

When I feel misunderstood, I return to the refuge of my journal like that of a parched mouth to a shore of salted water: in desperation for any kind of nourishment. Here I arrive like that of a sinner to my altar in confession and devotion. This doorstep of my true self is uninhibited by neither shame nor judgment. In desperation or in ease, I am always welcomed in as I am — with a chilled breath on my face as that of walking into a giant sequoia grove. This place is my own, asking nothing of me nor nothing from me. I offer myself still, in true devotion — an offering to the page, permitted in all forms in the wholeness of true reveal.

[sentimentalbeing2001]

I can’t wait to keep growing and becoming more Me … but better

[mournfulroses]

Katherine Mansfield, from a letter to Dorothy Brett featured in The Letters & Journals of Katherine Mansfield

[foxeia]

Anne Lauer

[knifeeater]

Maybe it’s better to have the terrible times first. I don’t know. Maybe then, you can have, if you live, a better life, a real life, because you had to fight so hard to get it away⸺you know?⸺from the mad dog who held it in his teeth. But then your life has all those tooth marks, too, all those tatters and all that blood.

James Baldwin  This morning, this evening, so soon  

[365filmsbyauroranocte]

Mur Murs (Agnès Varda, 1981)

[weltenwellen]

Mary Oliver, from “The Fourth Sign of the Zodiac”, Blue Horses

[typiing-deactivated20240430]

you want it because your future self already has it

[foxeia]

Emma Ranne

[isl-equ-ay]

[tellmenoliesboutique]

[somethoughtseeds]

[infinite-garden]

“You have clipped wings and scars from when people told you that you were too young and too human and too weak to scale the troposphere with your eyes closed, but you were born from the earth and you were born from a wave of your mother’s love and you will end up somewhere in a horizon between the two.”

— Shinji Moon, Here Is What I Wish They Said

[serratedpens]

Barbara Crooker, “Red Amaryllis”

[weltenwellen]

Alex Dimitrov, from "Tuesday"

[infinite-garden]

[soracities]

Marina Tsvetaeva, excerpt from Poem of the End, Selected Poems (trans. Elaine Feinstein, with Angela Livingstone)