preme pora baron

[phoebe-does]

It’s okay to romanticise the small things about your day-to-day life. It’s okay to romanticise sleeping in, waking up to the sun tickling your skin. It’s okay to romanticise the texture of fingers against a page. Sometimes to save your day you need to romanticise sitting at a desk and working, or romanticise studying hyped up on coffee. It’s okay to picture yourself as if you were the mc in a movie. Watch yourself go through shit and know that it’s just the climax of your own story, and that while you sit in your room sobbing to sad songs, good things are just around the corner.

Sometimes to be okay or get through the day you need to romanticise the simple things.

[metamorphesque]

How we need another soul to cling to, another body to keep us warm.

Sylvia Plath / 2046 (2004) dir. Wong Kar Wai / Henry Miller / One Fine Spring Day (2001) dir. Hur Jin ho / Franz Kafka / Norwegian Wood (2010) dir. Anh Hung Tran / Anaïs Nin / Girl From Nowhere (2018–) / Haruki Murakami / A Room with a View (1985) dir. James Ivory / Benjamin Alire Sáenz

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

“I walk through my life as though I were a bookmark, a holder of place, / An overnight interruption / in somebody else’s narrative.”

— Charles Wright, from “Nine-Panel Yaak River Screen,” A Short History of the Shadow: Poems (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2002)

[metamorphesque]

“This tremendous world I have inside of me. How to free myself, and this world, without tearing myself to pieces. And rather tear myself to a thousand pieces than be buried with this world within me.” ― Franz Kafka

1. Sylvia Plath | 2. Anne Magill | 3. Franz Kafka | 4. Cathy Hegman | 5. Haruki Murakami | 6. Hope Gangloff | 7. Franz Kafka | 8,9. Sylvia Plath | 10. Cathy Hegman | 11. F. Scott Fitzgerald | 12. Cathy Hegman | 13. Haruki Murakami 

[weltenwellen]

Alfredo Aguilar, from "Mount Erie"

[preme-pora-baron]

a day of living the dark academia aesthetic and thrifting an amazing selection of books 🤎

// spent the afternoon perusing local bookstores and thrift stores and ended up finding so many books I want to read! and all for an incredibly low price too! I'm so glad bookstores and cafés exist and that we're able to explore them again ☺️

[derangedrhythms]

I need some good quotes about longing for somebody!

"Oh! If you would only walk / into this room / again and touch me anywhere / I swear / I would not long for heaven or / for earth / more than I’d wish to stay there / touched / and touching you"

— June Jordan, Haruko/Love Poems; from 'A Poem For Haruko 10/29'

"Why was I calling you, wishing for you, why was I longing and thirsting for you with every curve of my soul…"

— Fyodor Dostoevsky, from 'The Brothers Karamazov', tr. Pevear & Volokhonsky

"You don’t know what a wild, crazy longing I have, what an ache there is inside me."

"Fuck my pride. Fuck everything. I’m so desperately hungry for you…"

— Henry Miller, from 'A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller 1932-1953'

"While I can’t have you, I long for you."

— Jeanette Winterson, from 'Desire'

"But longing has drunk my blood."

— Anna Akhmatova, Evening: II, tr. Judith Hemschemeyer

"Tonight everything hurts, not only the separation, but this terrible hunger of body and mind for you which every day you are increasing, stirring more and more."

— Anaïs Nin, A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller 1932-1953

"Sometimes I turn around and catch the smell of you and I cannot go on I cannot fucking go on without expressing this terrible so fucking awful physical aching fucking longing I have for you."

— Sarah Kane, from '4.48 Psychosis'

"My days are consumed by this impotent longing for you, and my nights are riddled with insufferable dreams… I want you. I want you hungrily, frenziedly, passionately. I am starving for you, if you must know it. Not only the physical you, but your fellowship, your sympathy, the innumerable points of view we share. I can’t exist without you…"

—Violet Trefusis, from a letter to Vita Sackville-West

"I long for you / the livelong day, and all night long."

— Marilyn Hacker, Love, Death, and the Changing of the Seasons; from ‘Letter on August 15th’

"my flame of yearning, / come back to tell me / what it was like to be without me."

— Chase Twichell, The Snow Watcher; from 'Saint Animal'

"...as though I were myself on fire, I thirst and pine."

— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, from ‘The Sorrows of Young Werther’ tr. David Constantine

"...that absolute and holy yearning of one human body and soul for another."

— Iris Murdoch, from 'The Sea, the Sea'

"It is like an illness: the desire to see someone, the strong, deep yearning. Yet you have just seen him, and seeing him tomorrow will not satisfy, and the same illness, like a hunger, will come to you, stronger each time you see him."

— Anaïs Nin, from 'The Early Diary of Anaïs Nin; 1927-1931'

[khayrr]

a pre-pandemic date in kolkata: it's our day off from college. a day free of learning about mughal history and for those less fortunate than myself, *ahem* you, a STEM major, a day free of abstract algebra lessons that you almost always doze off in - that is, of course, on days when you're not too busy being zoned out or having your nose stuck in a book on buddhism or modern psychology. if i had a rupee for every time i witnessed a brilliant, passionate-about-liberal arts indian teenager being forced to pursue a degree in science, i'd be able to buy the entirety of novels and books on college street, plus a lifetime supply of puchka. ah, yes. college street and puchka. i hook a pair of my favorite oxidised earrings into the holes of my ears and wrap a rani pink scarf around my neck. you pick me up and we stop at our favorite puchka stall and make idle chit-chat in bengali with the dada serving us. we 'clink' our puchkas together and mutter a small "cheers" and yell "jinx!" with our mouths half-full with the most exquisite thing on this planet. next, a stroll through college street, mostly us just haggling and refraining from buying more recreational reading material than our university schedule permits us to indulge in. sigh. next stop - victoria memorial. i see we're exceptionally touristy today. but hey, i wasn't in charge of the itinerary. regardless, i'm smiling more today than i have in a year. you seem to have that effect on me. we walk in silence, my right hand and your left hand occasionally running into each other. i never suck it up and just grab it, to hell with everything else. and neither do you. but both of us do consider it, and that seems to be enough for me. last stop, indian coffee house. a 'clink' and a "cheers" and i'm more relaxed than i've been all my life. that night, i can barely sleep. "amar din kate na" plays on my dad's carvaan but i barely pay attention to the lyrics. i'm too busy smiling to myself.

[acknowledgetheabsurd]

“I shouldn’t have written to you tonight, by the way, and I’ll take this letter back in the morning. But I felt a heart so full of memories and desires, so agitated by you, that I had to talk to you a little, as I would like to do, lips to lips, sometimes detaching myself to look at your wonderful face of consent. Ah, my darling, how I need only one sign from you to live.”

— Albert Camus to Maria Casarès, Correspondance, September 10-11, 1949 [#89]  

[vanillateaa]

“You are making breakfast in every dream that I have of you. You are in the kitchen, your soft middle pressed up against the cold marble countertops like a vision too beautiful for the magazines, sprinkling dark chocolate chips over pancakes. I think for a brief second that I am dreaming inside of my dream, that I had to make you up twice, just to get it right. You, brushing your dark hair out of your face, smearing batter across your cheeks. You have come and made my dreams smaller, narrower. Filled them with sugar and your body humming in the same room as mine. I dream, now, of a normal life with you. A life where breakfast lasts until the sun goes down, until I have finished gazing at you from across the table, flour dried to your forehead like a kiss.”

— Caitlyn Siehl, Chocolate Chip Pancakes (via alonesomes)

[pwatem]

Everyone discusses my art and pretends to understand, as if it were necessary to understand, when it is simply necessary to love. Claude Monet

[gaycommunist]

i’m missing from myself

@putridpink “a piece about loving while borderline” // anaïs nin // lori gottlieb “maybe you should talk to someone: a therapist, her therapist, and our lives revealed” // “red doc” anne carson // fernando pessoa “the book of disquiet” // unknown // jeanette winterson “written on the body” // normal people (2020) // olivia laing “the lonely city” // anaïs nin // autumn sonata (1978)

[soracities]

Svetlana Alexievich, Secondhand Time: The Last of the Soviets (trans. Bela Shayevich)

[preme-pora-baron]

I'm thinking about you in the silence of the night, when everything is nothing,

—Fernando Pessoa, from "I'm thinking about you", (tr. by Chris Daniels)

I carry a yearning I cannot bear alone in the dark—

What shall I do with all this heartache?

—Joy Harjo, from "Speaking Tree"

I search without finding, I write alone, there's no one here, and the day falls, the year falls, I fall with the moment,

—Octavio Paz, from Sunstone (tr. by Eliot Weinberger)

[jaane-ghazal]

Hi what's kolkata like

Kolkata is.... beautiful

It's like the perfect blend of dark academia (slightly on the westernised side and that's probably because of years of oppression by the colonisers) and culture, bengali culture (the festivals good God they're amazing), Muslim culture (some of the mosques I've seen are absolutely breathtaking), and so much more

This is college street or boi para, it's a huge secondhand book market, look at the vibess

I need to stop being this dramatic but I think you get what I mean lol

(do not and I repeat do not repost these pictures ANYWHERE, they are originals)

[soracities]

“and have you ever felt for anything such wild love– do you think there is anywhere, in any language, a word billowing enough for the pleasure that fills you, as the sun reaches out, as it warms you as you stand there, empty-handed–”

— Mary Oliver, ‘The Sun’ (via antigonies)

[queensinchains]

শুভ নববর্ষ !

shubho noboborsho; happy bengali new year!