Du du du du du ♪ ♫ ~ @isshogurl - Tumblr Blog

theosvangogh-deactivated2021041

ANTON CHEKHOV, Uncle Vanya tr. Hugh Aplin

Entonces cuando todo al fin se vuelve insoportable, cuando el mundo y el veneno dan dolor, todavía sigue allí tu buena estrella, buena estrella para todos, para vos.

carlysteier

thebluesthour

“flowers I wanted to bring to you, wild and wet from the pale dunes and still smelling of the summer night…” (Mary Oliver)

Vincent Van Gogh: Flowers + Blue

kafk-a

Sandra Cisneros

mbvillarreal-blog

“At school my name sounds funny as if the syllables were made out of tin and hurt the roof of your mouth. But in Spanish my name is made out of a softer something, like silver…”

— Sandra Cisneros, The House on Mango Street

theosvangogh-deactivated2021041

One Last Poem For Richard

themindmovement

“What they don’t understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you’re eleven, you’re also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two, and one. And when you wake up on your eleventh birthday you expect to feel eleven but you don’t. You open your eyes and everything’s just like yesterday only it’s today. And you don’t feel eleven at all. You still feel like you’re ten. And you are – underneath the year that makes you eleven. Like some days you might say something stupid, and that’s the part of you that’s still ten. Or maybe some days you need to sit on your mama’s lap because you’re scared, and that’s the part of you that’s five. And maybe one day when you’re all grown up maybe you will need to cry like you’re three, and that’s okay. That’s what I tell Mama when she’s sad and needs to cry. Maybe she’s feeling three. Because the way you grow old is kind of like an onion or like the rings inside a tree trunk or like my little wooden dolls that fit one inside the other, each year inside the next one. That’s how being eleven years old is. You don’t feel eleven. Not right away. It takes a few days, weeks even, sometimes even months before you say Eleven when they ask you. And you don’t feel smart eleven, not until you’re almost twelve. That’s the way it is.”

— Sandra Cisneros