Notice Me Senapi

Bopte's sideblog

[junname]

http://instagram.com/bluebluetammy

[libbyframe]

Buttercup, Blossom, and Bubbles

[lovestereo]

Visit Original Link

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“I lived in you, and now I die in you.”

— Conrad Aiken, from Selected Poems; “Tetélestai,” wr. c. September 1922

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Do you think that one can love so strongly that when the object of one's affection dies, one will become a living memorial of the other? As in all that made them them now resides within they who are living? Much love for your ethereal blog 💜 wishing u peace and rest.

Anon (!) It’s the most intimate and heaviest subject there is – grief, that is. But I don’t feel it’s static. Profound grief same as with profound love entails everything. It’s an ongoing process. I cannot put into words exactly how I’m feeling about this but Victor Hugo has come very close to pretty much summing it up for me and I connect with the passage below a lot:

“If you have ever seen a loved one vanish in the grave, never believe that you have been deserted. That loved one is still there, beside you more than ever. The beauty of death is presence–the indescribable presence of loved souls smiling at our tears. The creature we mourn is vanished, but not gone. We can no longer see her lovely face; but we sense that we are under her wings. The dead are invisible, but not absent.”

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“She has no particular reason to die, just as she has no particular reason to live.”

— Sándor Márai, tr. by George Szirtes, from “Esther’s Inheritance,” c. 1939

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“Death has not been born yet, it is asleep on a pink beach.”

— Alfonsina Storni, tr. by David Masse, from Mask & Clover; “Birdsong,”

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“I am full of grief. I am going to lie down and die and be reborn to come back as those roses,”

— Lynn Emanuel, from “Ordinary Objects,” featured in “When She Named Fire: An Anthology of Contemporary Poetry by American Women,”

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“For a brief moment Death had fallen asleep and dreamt of Life.”

— Nikos Kazantzakis, tr. by Kimon Friar, from Modern Greek Poetry; “Death Dreams of Life,”

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“Very few people ever really are alive and those that are never die; no matter if they are gone. No one you love is ever dead.”

— Ernest Hemingway, from a letter to Sarah Murphy c. March 1935

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Aleksandr Kochetkov, tr. by Lubov Yakovleva, from 20th Century Russian Poetry; “Ballad about a Smoke-Filled Railway Carriage,”

[towaforever1]

Kim Soogyong

[lostinpersona]

Il seme dell'uomo, Marco Ferreri (1969)

[wataro0821]

baserange pop up visual #シンボパン

[tokyo-camera-style]

HIROMIX OH MY LOVER (Inner Brain, 1996) is a fantastic relic from the late 1990′s Japanese photo scene.  Released in the midst of “Girly Photo” mania, this Hiromix photobook includes both a music CD of the photographer’s 60′s mod tribute group The Clovers and a photo CD-ROM that’s compatible with the Sega Saturn, the Panasonic 3DO, and Windows 95.

[0162cm]

https://instagram.com/oh.my.jin?utm_source=ig_profile_share&igshid=1r1tsbfzlda3e

[driflloon]

homage to couture: alexandra agoston for harper’s bazaar arabia dec. 2018