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A maelstrom -- a literature, images, gastronomy, travel whirl.

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Madrid in the rain.

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I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure in the landscape… Something waits beneath it; the whole story doesn’t show

Andrew Wyeth

[gretarybus-deactivated20161202]

Photos for Maine Magazine’s February Issue: handcrafted cocktails for Maine weddings.

All images © Greta Rybus

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Cocteles muy buenos en Hunt and Alpine. Uno de mis bares favoritos.

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Streaks of light came in through the closed shutters where they worked with the seriousness of creators—and destruction after all is a form of creation. A kind of imagination had seen this house as it had now become.

The Destructors by Graham Greene

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Heroes Square. Budapest, Hungary.

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Deák Ferenc Tér, Budapest, Hungary.

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Budapest, Hungary.

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There is a sort of dead-alive, hackneyed people about, who are scarcely conscious of living except in the exercise of some conventional occupation. Bring these fellows into the country, or set them aboard ship, and you will see how they pine for their desk or their study. They have no curiosity; they cannot give themselves over to random provocations; they do not take pleasure in the exercise of their faculties for its own sake; and unless Necessity lays about them with a stick, they will even stand still.

"An Apology for Idlers" Robert Lewis Stevenson

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The most he could do was create a place where his heart—devoid now of any depth or weight—could be tethered, to keep it from wandering aimlessly.

Kino by Haruki Murakami

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I know what you will do when morning comes. I wake before you do and I lie still. Sometimes I doze, but usually I am alert, with my eyes open. I don’t move. I don’t want to disturb you. I can hear your soft, calm breathing and I like that. And then at a certain point you turn toward me without opening your eyes; your hand reaches over, and you touch my shoulder or my back. And then all of you comes close to me. It is as though you were still sleeping—there is no sound from you, just a need, almost urgent but unconscious, to be close to someone. This is how the day begins when you are with me.

Sleep by Colm Tóibín

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Carrer Sant Pere Més Alt. El Born. Barcelona

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[thetieguy]

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Put your hand on my arm, look me in the eye, and connect with me for one second. Tell me something about your heart, and awaken my heart. Help me remember that I too am a full and complete human being, a human being who also craves a human touch.

http://www.onbeing.org/blog/the-disease-of-being-busy/7023

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It is awful to want to go away and to want to go nowhere.

Sylvia Plath (via fassadenmensch)

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But some people can't tell where it hurts. They can't calm down. They can't ever stop howling.

The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood