@infinitelysoft - Tumblr Blog

“I don’t want to be happy. I want to have you by my side. To have you by my sadness and my depression. To have you. Your love. Your care. That is much much precious than happiness. I am a nothing and a no one. But I am everything in your hands. So hold me.”

— Mohammed Zarir, from a letter to T.M. (2020)

#Mohammed Zarir #love letters #the lovers #anything that touches

dirbyagnesvarda

i have 2 sit down and absorb a thought

#tenderness #moonlight #i’m about to forgive you for everything #you’re not in chains are you?#a favorite

soracities

“His eyes are a little swollen. He has flushed them with water after a night of crying and thinks no one will notice. But in reality everything is noticeable, so the funeral guests have left him alone. Not out of respect but out of fear, because the world is afraid of those who cry.”

— Stig Dagerman, A Moth to a Flame (Burnt Child) (trans. Benjamin Mier-Cruz)

#stig dagerman #prose #to be seen is the penalty #mostly i want to be kind #grief is a long dark table

catilinas

sometimes a ghost is a ghost but other times a ghost is the prominent absence of a ghost

#grief is a long dark table #x

isabelladjanis

THE NEW WORLD dir.Terrence Malick

#images #moodboard #on loving

firstfullmoon

“I do believe in poetry. I believe that there are creatures endowed with the power to put things together and bring them back to life.”

—

Helene Cixous, from The Book of Promethea

(tr. by Betsy Wing)

#helene cixous #in human writing there is always something accidental

soracities

“If the book doesn’t have that miraculous, unspeakable thing that makes common words, word heard thousands of times, lash out and astonish; if each page can simply be turned without making the hand tremble a little bit; if the words can’t stand up by themselves without the foundations of an argument; if simple emotion can’t be found without searching for it, if it isn’t present in every line; then what is a book?”

— Josefina Vicens, The Empty Book (trans. David Lauer)

#josefina vicens #the empty book #prose #in human writing there is always something accidental #storytelling #x

soracities

Our hands contain our humanness. Sometimes they give us away. They clasp a chair while we pretend not to be scared. They sweat from the palms while we beg our foreheads to stay dry. They also hold. They pray. They dance along the keys of a piano. They tickle. They dust themselves in flour. They shape bread. They scratch the back of a lover. We hide so much in this life, but I don’t know if it is possible to hide the way a hand can open and close itself out of care or loss or love.

Devin Kelly, from Ordinary Plots: "J. Estanislao Lopez's 'What the Fingers Do'"

#devin kelly #anything that touches #tenderness #a favorite #x

heavenlyyshecomes

What a thing it is, to fall in love, to want to know everything there is to know about a person and yet, at the same time, to find the smallest detail—a blade of loose skin peeling from the lower corner of the fingernail—entirely overwhelming, too lovely to bear.

—Nell Stevens, Briefly, A Delicious Life

#nell stevens #on loving #the lovers #I am still looking #on longing #love letters #a favorite