As the night falls and my eyes bechance upon the sky, there in the fading colours of ember and blue, I behold the smiling yet departing fragments of our shades once true.
~~ when the evening calls.
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
RMH
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As the night falls and my eyes bechance upon the sky, there in the fading colours of ember and blue, I behold the smiling yet departing fragments of our shades once true.
~~ when the evening calls.
“Choosing a lover is a lot like choosing a therapist. We need to ask ourselves, is this someone who will be honest with me, listen to criticism, admit making mistakes, and not promise the impossible?”
— Alex Michaelides, The Silent Patient
“We’re all crazy, I believe, just in different ways.”
“There’s so much pain everywhere, and we just close our eyes to it. The truth is we’re all scared. We’re terrified of each other.”
— Alex Michaelides, The Silent Patient
“I didn’t want to die. Not yet; not when I hadn’t lived.”
— Alex Michaelides, The Silent Patient
“Somehow grasping at vanishing snowflakes is like grasping at happiness: an act of possession that instantly gives way to nothing. It reminded me that there was a world outside this house: a world of vastness and unimaginable beauty; a world that, for now, remained out of my reach. That memory has repeatedly returned to me over the years. It’s as if the misery that surrounded that brief moment of freedom made it burn even brighter: a tiny light surrounded by darkness.”
— Alex Michaelides, The Silent Patient
“Once you name something, it stops you seeing the whole of it, or why it matters. You focus on the word, which is just the tiniest part, really, the tip of an iceberg.”
— Alex Michaelides, The Silent Patient
“Well, at the heart of all art lies a mystery.”
— Alex Michaelides, The Silent Patient
Wasn’t all of this a mere illusion? Maybe all the twists and turns, all the sirens and the silence, all the storms and the calm, all the echoes and the empty spaces, all the recognition and the loss, all the stars and the utter darkness have been nothing but a ladder to reach life.
— Huda S. Maqbool
— Nikita Gill
The emptiness crawls deeper into you, The hollowness awakens stronger by midnight, The slow breaths that ever so softly leave you, The ghostly shadows keep searching for the light,
— Huda S. Maqbool
“But life will always have its own trail for you to follow.”
—Huda S. Maqbool
But life will always have its own trail for you to follow. No matter how glorified and meant-to-be the path you're headed on seems, there will always be a dusty dark road that will appear out of nowhere, silently waiting for your meek steps to acknowledge it and leaving you drained of all your energy—because what is life if not wandered through its dusty turmoiling sands, what is life if not wavered by its swells of darkness arising from beneath, what is life if lived and lived all smooth.
Palestinians are no longer asking us to help stop the bombing.
They are asking ( I would normally say begging, but proud as they are, Allah save them. After 106 days, they never begged for anything) for food.
They fear dying out of hunger more than being shredded to pieces by bombs
The messages they send.... How can I tell it's worse.. I can't put it into words, but it's worse
— Jean Rhys
“The world seems to move, to thrive with such ease, while here I am at a halt — stuck at a point, ceasing to exist.”
— Huda S. Maqbool
Hanif Abdurraqib interviewed by Ruth Awad: Joy Is Not Promised to You
اين المفر و سجني سوره جسدي و كيف اهرب و الأضلاع قضباني…
Where’s the way out if my prison’s wall is my body, and how can I flee if my ribs are its bars…
-ابو زينب
— Huda S. Maqbool