@kitchenism - Tumblr Blog

havingapoemwithyou

sunday drive by Kate Baer

#poetry

scpkid

go home

#art #on nature #on journeys

utwo

SUMELA MONASTERY Turkey

Sumela is 1600 year old ancient Orthodox monastery located at a 1200 meters height on the steep cliff at Macka region of Trabzon city in Turkey.

The monastery is constructed on rocks reached by a path through the forest. The beautiful frescoes dating from the 18 th century on the walls of the monastery are biblical scenes of Christ and Virgin Mary.

#photography #sumela monastery #turkey #on nature #on architecture

typewriter-worries

The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion | Dining Alone, Joseph Lorusso | Trances of the Blast, Mary Ruefle

#connective tissue #the world begins at the kitchen table #on endings #on humanity #geets.txt

robert-hadley

Porto (Portogallo) - Foto rgcbatista

#photography #portugal #on architecture #on art #in blue

luvyouforever-deactivated201810

emily berry

#okay then #poetry #emily berry #geets.txt #cryochamber #on the self

biomaterial

I was aware that James Baldwin had spent the last seventeen years of his life living in the French town of SaintPaul-de-Vence. As I understood it, he rented a stone house with orange trees and palms and views of the sea and the mountains. It was his refuge from hostility to his skin colour and homosexuality in 1970s America. He wrote in this rented stone house, ashtray on his desk, the fireplace behind his chair. Miles Davis, Stevie Wonder, Nina Simone, Ella Fitzgerald: all made the journey to visit him. He talked long into the warm, Mediterranean night with friends, seated around a table in the garden. His former Swiss lover lived in the gatehouse with his family and nursed Baldwin when he became sick from stomach cancer. Apparently, Baldwin took steps to buy this house when he was dying, but somehow it did not work out. After his death, his rented real estate did not become the James Baldwin Museum. I, for one, would have made the pilgrimage just to see the glass ashtray on his desk. I would have liked to glimpse where he wrote and thought and welcomed friends. The house was not just a domestic space, it was a political space. He’d had to leave his country and make a kinder world in a house he had rented elsewhere. It was not the first time he had to escape racism in America to survive and to write. He had arrived in Paris from New York in the winter of 1948 with forty dollars in his pocket. At that time, he lived in a crummy hotel in the Rue de Verneuil. A rented house on the Côte d’Azur with orange and palm trees in the courtyard, surrounded by friends, was an encouraging image. I had kept it in my head for decades, like an old photograph in my family album.

Deborah Levy, Real Estate

#oh #deborah levy #real estate #excerpt #on the political #on home #james baldwin

teathattast

woodrider

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probablyasocialecologist

Desire paths are interesting because of the way they come into being: a ‘bottom up’ system against the 'top down’ methodology of the planner, and proof of human unpredictability. Nobody decides to make a desire path. There is no ribbon-cutting. These are the kinds of paths that begin over time, imperceptibly, gathering definition as people slowly recognise and legitimise the footfall of their peers. Paths are as old as the earliest transhumance, as the first drovers and movers of livestock, or even older. It might seem far-fetched to compare them to the dreaming tracks or songlines of the Australian aboriginals, but this slow erosion is how many of our roads began, navigating the easiest or best-disposed route between origin and destination on foot.

Paul Farley & Michael Symmons Roberts, Edgelands: Journeys into England’s True Wilderness

#desire paths #connective tissue #on humanity #on nature