Sensational

cece//26//turn around//aries #mobileistrash

[weltenwellen]

Alejandra Pizarnik, tr. by Yvette Siegert, from “Psychopathology Ward”, Extracting the Stone of Madness: Poems 1962 - 1972

[hasdrubal-gisco]

they should invent love for women who are weird control freaks

[stuckinapril]

hey man I found a piece of your soul stuck in the text messages of old friends you don’t speak to anymore. do you want it back

[firstfullmoon]

Ibrahim Nasrallah, “Palestinian,” trans. Huda Fakhreddine

[firstfullmoon]

the asian american writers’ workshop just published 16 love poems by poets of palestinian heritage that were featured in the anthology we call to the eye & the night edited by hala alyan & zeina hashem beck

[bauliya]

“stop traumadumping to your friends tell this to your therapist” my god they paywalled human connection

[juneacademiaa]

babe i really can't talk right now i'm in the middle of pacing around the house while listening to music

[louisegluckpdf]

they should invent a profound love between two people that doesnt involve the power and chance of doing profound hurt

[louisegluckpdf]

btw

[ettiqu-rtz]

reject booktok culture. go to the library and get a weird little novel you’ve never heard of in your life and read it all in 2 days like god intended.

[chandra-telescope]

you’ve heard of existential dread and existential horror, now get ready for existential peace, which is that feeling when you stare up at the nightsky and think, “huh. i exist. that’s pretty neat.”

[proustiansleep]

“I’m still a difficult woman who startles easy. I still forget to wash the apple before I eat it. I’m still oddly thankful for the rush of hot air let off from the sides of buses. Like things could be hotter, grosser. I’m still doubtful my stories possess a clear point. The sound of men gulping water still bothers me. I still interrupt. I’m still unprepared for how unusual it feels to receive a postcard; the traveled touch of card stock; of tapered handwriting chasing vertically up the side, allowing for a squished, tender sign-off. Thinking of you. Miss you. An unforeseen Yours. Even the faint sound of a postcard falling through my mail slot and landing on my floor is, somehow, still enchanted. I still prefer counting to fourteen instead of ten. I still don’t mind, perhaps I even like, ice cream’s cold swallow rising up my throat so I can swallow it back down again. I still only have nightmares when I take naps. I still wonder what stops me, what version of me would exist had I let someone take my picture when I was younger, wearing a bikini with my hair up, while in the background an out-of-focus lake contrives to mislay the mood. Because hanging over pictures of lakes and girls and summer is the impression, often, of a missing person. I still have trouble discerning between loneliness and solitude, and Sundays, and Schubert’s sonatas. I’m still dismally unfunny; restless when I sit on grass; too much of a daughter to forget about the dead. Even though I own none, I still love the size of LP records. Their square, tactile bigness. And I still believe that people who buy them and collect them aren’t snobs at all, but true blues … It still comes as a shock to me how irreversible life is. How there’s no going back to whatever version of me existed before I saw that movie—the kind that switches me on to new streaks of consciousness by showing me a woman I feel strangely, formerly, acquainted with.”

— Durga Chew-Bose, Too Much And Not The Mood

[electricheart]

when the just some guy version of waymond wang said, “you tell me that it’s a cruel world, and we’re all just running around in circles. I know that. I’ve been on this earth just as many days as you. when I choose to see the good side of things, I’m not being naive. it is strategic and necessary. it’s how I’ve learned to survive through everything. I know you see yourself as a fighter. well, I see myself as one too. this is how I fight.”

[benshakir]

Colors of Spirited Away (2001)

color designer Michiyo Yasuda

[mjalti]

the idea of fame is like the greatest tragedy, the human soul was never meant to be consumed & the old stories warned us about what demons eat. anyways

[pmeraki]

[wildlifegermany]

[apocryphics]

Li-Young Lee