[acknowledgetheabsurd]

Yes; this is the hour I've always feared: the one when, far from each other, we find ourselves forced to try and settle into two lives, each of which creates a new distance between us and tends to separate us forever. And this spring, this radiance, this sun, this gush of earth whose every image is nourished with a thousand tendernesses, a thousand warmths by the hope of the long days is there, watching and remembering.

Maria Casarès to Albert Camus, Correspondance, April 15-16, 1950 [#280]

[vanpeltfoto]

Some Departures Don’t Echo

(Photo: d.)

[goblinsbriide]

“Muskura ke lai litti eh saadi zimmevaari

Ni main nahin keeti kadi vi tere ton badgumaani

Tu mera yaar si, dil aasmaan paar si

Eh do dilaan da pyaar si, Oh pyaar na si kaaghazi, par”

[lifeinpoetry]

“And when the smoke cleared away, and I sought to look upon the earth, I beheld against the background of cold, humorous stars only the dying sun and the pale mournful planets searching for their sister.”

— H.P. Lovecraft & Winifred Jackson, “The Crawling Chaos”(via somebody-else)

[dk-thrive]

You'll notice that I haven't talked about love. Or about happiness. I've talked about becoming - or remaining - the person who can be happy, a lot of the time, without thinking that being happy is what it's all about. It's not. It's about becoming the largest, most inclusive, most responsive person you can be.

— Susan Sontag, from "Notes on 'Camp'" in "Against Interpretation" (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1966) (via Whiskey River)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

“There is no “supposed to be” in bodies. The question is not size of shape or years of age, or even having two of everything, for some do not. But the wild issue is, does this body feel, does it have right connection to pleasure, to heart, to soul, to the wild? Does it have happiness, joy?”

— Clarissa Pinkola Estés, from  “Women who Run with the Wolves,” c. 1992

[elinerlina2]

Last light in Goa, India

[theglasschild]

Everyone's out of focus when they're moving too fast to be seen

Here's the thing about everywhere: it's nowhere specific.

The words you want are heavy? Fine. You're thirty-two and running out of money. You check your bank balance obsessively like it might change its mind. You haven't had a real address in two years.

Listen. Everyone's out of focus when they're moving too fast to be seen. You want clarity? Stop moving. You want sharp? Stand still long enough— I don't know how that sentence ends. I don't know how any of this ends.

You say you want your fire back like it's something someone took from you. Like it's not right there in your chest, burning through every city you run to. You're not faded. You're overexposed. All that light you're looking for? You're bleeding it. That's the clarity. That's the shape of it: You, hemorrhaging light in another rented room, calling it darkness.

– Charlotte Eriksson

[whereifindsanity]

flickr.com

Lois Yasay

[bodymodificationnation]

Sak Yant by watsonsith

[dag--dag]

take flight

[soracities]

“How many tremors passed between these walls? Can you distinguish between the tremors of fear from the bombing and the tremors of kisses?”

— Dunya Mikhail, from ‘Traces’, The War Works Hard (trans. Elizabeth Winslow)

[howifeltabouthim]

She wondered if she would always straddle that confusing place between child and adult, if it was printed on her skin like a warning that she could not be depended on or desired.

Chris Whitaker, from All the Colors of the Dark

[askyea-poesy]

And the air was full of thoughts and things to say. But at times like these, only the small things are ever said. Big things lurk unsaid inside.

Arundhati Roy

[derangedrhythms]

Let us sculpt in hopeless silence all our dreams of speaking.

Fernando Pessoa, from ‘The Book of Disquiet’, tr. Richard Zenith

[beforevenice]

venezia

[nobeerreviews]

I understand you, and I shall not attempt to make you change your mind. I am too old to want to improve the world. I have told you what I think, and that is all. I shall remain your friend even if you act contrary to my convictions, and I shall help you even if I disagree with you.

-- Milan Kundera