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#monica bellucci

flowerytale

Joan Didion, from Blue Nights

fanta30

Monica Bellucci in La Riffa

metamorphesque

I have so much love in me that I would like to cry.

Simone de Beauvoir, Kayleb Rae Candrilli, Sylvia Plath, Clarice Lispector

buy me a coffee

luthienne

Franz Wright, from God's Silence; "East Boston, 1996"

[Text ID: Walking home, for a moment / you almost believe you could start again. / And an intense love rushes to your heart, / and hope. It's unendurable, unendurable.]

maybe-itsforthebest

- j (x)

gusvanscant

“I know what the fear is. The fear is not for what is lost. What is lost is already in the wall. What is lost is already behind the locked doors. The fear is for what is still to be lost.” ― Joan Didion, Blue Nights

quotespile

“Once in a while, groundless melancholy would darken my face, a dull and incomprehensible nostalgia for times never experienced would invade me.”

— Clarice Lispector, The Complete Stories

thirdity

“I had the ability to ask the question, but not to hear the answer. No, I had not even known how to ask the question. Yet the answer had imposed itself upon me since I was born. Because of this continual answer I, the wrong way around, had been forced to seek the corresponding question. So I had got lost in a labyrinth of questions, and asked questions at random, hoping that one of them would occasionally correspond to the answer, and that I could then understand the answer.”

— Clarice Lispector, The Passion According to G. H.

last-picture-show

/ Arno Rafael Minkkinen, Self-Portrait with Laurence, St. Lawrenz, Gozo, Malta, 2002

estherpiscore

LA NOCHE

La noche no era el sueño era su boca era su hermoso cuerpo despojado de sus gestos inútiles era su cara pálida mirándome en la sombra. La noche era su boca su fuerza y su pasión era sus ojos serios esas piedras de sombras cayéndose en mis ojos y era su amor en mí invadiendo tan lenta tan misteriosamente.

Idea Vilariño.

cuetheviolins

“Meditations in an Emergency,” Frank O’Hara

wavingtovirginia

“But her grief was silent. She shut the door behind her. When she was alone by herself she clenched her fists together, and began beating the back of a chair with them. She was like a wounded animal. She hated death; she was furious, outraged, indignant with death, as if it were a living creature. She refused to relinquish her friends to death. She would not submit to dark and nothingness. She began to pace up and down, clenching her hands, and making no attempt to stop the quick tears which raced down her cheeks. She sat still at last, but she did not submit. She looked stubborn and strong when she had ceased to cry.”

— Virginia Woolf, The Voyage Out

dearestsecret

gogandmagog

“Sometimes I dream a sentence and write it down. It’s usually nonsense, but sometimes it seems a key to another world.”

— Anne Carson

secondbodies

"I am being joyful in this very instant because I refuse to be defeated: so I love. As an answer. Impersonal love, it love, is love: even the love that doesn't work out, even the love that ends."

Água Viva, by Clarice Lispector