Petites Lumieres

[petites-lumieres]

Listen/purchase: by Dirty Beaches

[psych-quotes]

“I have a million things to talk to you about. All I want in this world is you. I want to see you and talk. I want the two of us to begin everything from the beginning.”

― Haruki Murakami (via psych-quotes)

[petites-lumieres]

Re-arrange stars Using sunlight from our smiles Breathe into glass Run to my side Dripping signs of life

breathe into glass- Asobi Seksu

[paperarrow]

“He made his cameras from tin cans, childrens spectacle lens and other junk he found on the street. He would return home each day to make prints on equally primitive equipment, making only one print from the negative he selected. He stole intimate glimpses of his subjects through windows and…

[paperarrow]

Lori Nix from the City Library, 2007 

[petites-lumieres]

i had a dream exactly like this years ago. glad to know i'm not alone.

[petites-lumieres]

My parents had tickets for this tragic flight but sold them right before boarding. It is always a humbling reminder of how fragile and unpredictable our lives are.

[scoreofzero-deactivated20150317]

[litverve]

But every so often something shatters like ice and we are in the river of our existence. We are aware.

Louise Erdrich, The Plague of Doves, (with thanks to @riskywiver)

[petites-lumieres]

quiet moments are hard to come by these days. when they visit, i can't help but recall. for me songs are the biggest emotional triggers. when i listen to this it's as though i'm viewing those memories through a frozen lake, muffled and quieted by the ice but still present and existing through my reminiscence.

[seafarers-deactivated20131211]

Above the Clouds by Thunderbolt TW

[mollyccostello-deactivated20230]

"Quiet Exaltation" with new life.

[petites-lumieres]

it's a comin'

[petites-lumieres]

500 miles (cover) - Gliss

[austinkleon]

A work of art is something produced by a person, but is not that person — it is of her, but is not her. It’s a reach, really — the artist is trying to inhabit, temporarily, a more compact, distilled, efficient, wittier, more true-seeing, precise version of herself — one that she can’t replicate in so-called ‘real’ life, no matter how hard she tries. That’s why she writes: to try and briefly be more than she truly is.

George Saunders (via austinkleon)

[petites-lumieres]

Caravelles - Tonight You Belong To Me

[petites-lumieres]

Obscure Color Words

albicant: whitish; becoming white

amaranthine: immortal; undying; deep purple-red colour

aubergine: eggplant; a dark purple colour

azure: light or sky blue; the heraldic colour blue

celadon: pale green; pale green glazed pottery

cerulean: sky-blue; dark blue; sea-green

chartreuse: yellow-green colour

cinnabar: red crystalline mercuric sulfide pigment; deep red or scarlet colour

citrine: dark greenish-yellow

eburnean: of or like ivory; ivory-coloured

erythraean: reddish colour

flavescent: yellowish or turning yellow

greige: of a grey-beige colour

haematic: blood coloured

heliotrope: purplish hue; purplish-flowered plant; ancient sundial; signalling mirror

hoary: pale silver-grey colour; grey with age

isabelline: greyish yellow

jacinthe: orange colour

kermes: brilliant red colour; a red dye derived from insects

lovat: grey-green; blue-green

madder: red dye made from brazil wood; a reddish or red-orange colour

mauve: light bluish purple

mazarine: rich blue or reddish-blue colour

russet: reddish brown

sable: black; dark; of a black colour in heraldry

saffron: orange-yellow

sarcoline: flesh-coloured

smaragdine: emerald green

tilleul: pale yellowish-green

titian: red-gold, reddish brown

vermilion: bright red

virid: green

viridian: chrome green

xanthic: yellow

zinnober: chrome green

[desert-dreamer]

[petites-lumieres]

I could actually see and hear my tears dripping down into the white pool of moonlight, where they were sucked in as if they had always been a part of the light. As they fell, the tears caught the light of the moon and sparkled like beautiful crystals. Then I noticed that my shadow was crying too, shedding clear, sharp shadow tears. Have you ever seen the shadows of tears, Mr. Wind-Up Bird? They're nothing like ordinary shadows. Nothing at all. They come here from some other, distant world, especially for our hearts. Or maybe not. It struck me then that the tears my shadow was shedding might be the real thing, and the tears that I was shedding were just shadows.

- May Kasahara's Point of View: 6 from The Wind Up Bird Chronicle