she lives in dreams, alone

P. — dreamer, reader, shy eyes, young body, old soul. I’ve been trying to go home my whole life.

[paper-fairy]

Edna St. Vincent Millay, fragment from the poem Wild Swans

[undinesea]

Photo by Luciana Salgado

[megairea]

“[The stars] gaze down at us from a distant death that has yet to reach us.”

— Mahmoud Darwish, from Poem XX; In the Presence of Absence (tr. by Sinan Antoon), 2006

[larmoyante]

“But how to do feelings? All very well to write “She felt sad”, or describe what a sad person might do, but what of sadness itself, how was that put across so it could be felt in all its lowering immediacy?”

—  Ian McEwan, Atonement

[roseydoux]

[poetrydystopian]

"Very early in my life, it was too late."

[mariaangels]

Duane Michals the illuminated man 1968

[paper-fairy]

Edna St. Vincent Millay, fragment from the poem The Bean-Stalk

[cor-ardens-archive]

The Curse of the Cat People (1944, dir. Gunther von Fritsch, Robert Wise)

[tenderspirits-deactivated202012]

She was in a reverie of sweet remembrances.

Jane Austen, from “Mansfield Park,”

[edwardian-girl-next-door]

"Her face, ivory gold against the blurred sunset that strove through the rain,"

~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night (1934)

[harritudur]

Brief Encounter (1945), dir. David Lean

[spiderbasil]

you start to understand why they invented the bed

[tofutomato]

you gotta read, you gotta write, you gotta draw, you gotta watch films and shows. there is literally NO time to be employed

[poetic-questions]

—Vincent van Gogh, in a letter to Theo, his brother (Amsterdam, 15 July 1877)

[midsumner]

“how unbearable you are, all sweet cheeked and honey steeped”

— postscript. y.

[henk-heijmans]

Cats meeting, 1948 - by Édouard Boubat (1923 - 1999), French