Ana

à flor da pele

[quotesfrombooksarchive]

I have nothing to tell you, save that it is to you that I tell this nothing

A Lover's Discourse, Roland Barthes [Trans. Richard Howard]

[petaltexturedskies]

One day you’ll have whatever it is you’re now so confusedly seeking. That kind of calm that comes from knowing oneself and others. But you can’t rush the arrival of that state of mind. There are things you only learn when no one teaches them. And that’s how it is with life. There’s even more beauty in discovering it for yourself, in spite of the suffering.

Clarice Lispector, from “Gertrudes asks for advice” in The Complete Stories

[classicalcanvas]

Weeping Willow (1919) by Claude Monet

[kirsanof]

Bois ton café, Éric Rohmer

[soracities]

Julio Cortázar, Hopscotch (trans. Gregory Rabassa)

[Text ID: “As if you could pick in love, as if it were not a lightning bolt that splits your bones and leaves you staked out in the middle of the courtyard.”]

[lamignonette]

[lesbianartandartists]

Morgan Gwenwald, Butch/Fem Picnic

[twothousandeight]

1. Roland Barthes, The Pleasure of the Text, trans. Richard Miller

2. George Bataille, Erotism: Death And Sensuality, trans. Mary Dalwood

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Roland Barthes, A Lover's Discourse; Fragments [translated by Richard Howard]

[fuzzbby]

Pan Ran.

[shisasan]

2 February 1909, Aleksandr Blok (1880-1921), Selected Poems

[dearparentheses]

Tokuhiro Kawai

[enchantedbook]

"Singing Over the Bones" by Lucy Campbell

[mournfulroses]

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter featured in The Dark Interval: Letters on Death

[kafkasapartment]

Untitled (the Couple at La Methode), 1960’s. Christer Strömholm. Gelatin silver print

[unusual-suspects]

x

[virtuallyinsane]