Sunshine Years

Happiness only real when shared.

[weltenwellen]

Ellen Bass, “The Thing Is”, Poetry of Presence: An Anthology of Mindfulness Poems

[garmentpurist-deactivated202603]

I love getting older. I’m hotter, more confident, more intelligent. Ageism is a dirty trap. Don’t get caught in it.

[kanoexores]

Romina in the park

[dridelus]

[mournfulroses]

Juliette Drouet, from a letter to Victor Hugo, featured in My Beloved Toto: Letters

[vintagewildlife]

White egrets "kissing" as part of their mating ritual By: Tokutaro Tanaka From: Life Nature Library: Animal Behavior 1965

[letterful]

[soracities]

Sometimes I tell myself: your fate is unique; consider all others fortunate—no other has ever been so tormented. Then I read a poet of past times, and it is as if I were looking into my own heart.

Goethe, The Sorrows of Young Werther (trans. Bayard Quincy Morgan)

[peelsofpoetry]

September 8th by Pablo Neruda Today, this day was a brimming cup, today, this day was the immense wave, today, it was all the earth. Today the stormy sea lifted us in a kiss so high that we trembled in a lightning flash and, tied, we went down to sink without untwining. Today our bodies became vast, they grew to the edge of the world and rolled melting into a single drop of wax or meteor.

[soracities]

“We come gnawed by need on hands and knees.”

— Atsuro Riley, from “Thicket,” Poetry (September 2013)

[soracities]

“September with a mouth unmoored and swelling. The sky split in half. A forgotten catastrophe. She waits in the hallway to identify her body. And all the light sees her ruin.”

— Ana Carrizo, “In the Month of September” (via eveninglesbian)

[soracities]

“This is September, Mother, and here is sorrow bringing me its wrapped gifts”

— Nizar Qabbani, from ‘Five Letters to My Mother’

[worldwidefashion]

Devitha for SICKY Magazine — September 2018.

Photographer/Stylist: Annabelle Foucher

Hair & Makeup: Capucine Foucher

sickymag.com

[soracities]

Wallace Stevens, ‘The Dwarf’, The Collected Poems of Wallace Stevens

[Text ID: “Now it is September and the web is woven. The web is woven and you have to wear it.”]

[soracities]

“Maybe in a year I could write something. There is something in me maybe someday to be written; now it is folded, and folded, and folded, like a note in school.”

— Sharon Olds, from “September 2001: New York City,” in Stag’s Leap (Alfred A. Knopf, 2012)

[dk-thrive]

I can see now that I was hungry for love... For something to love: a bite, a dream, a person, a meal, a field, a piece of a world worth believing in.

— C. Pam Zhang, Land of Milk and Honey (Riverhead Books, September 26, 2023)

[tunisienne]

Takrouna, Sousse, Tunisia.

By:  Wassim Toukebri