[eraserheadadult]

my beloveds…

[written-w0rd]

Salma Deera, Letters from Medea

[sykesarchive1]

hunger and thirst (and ouroborous)

starting over (bad habits) // body of love // old haunts, new cities // mouth of the cave

[pinkmoon888]

a good meal can leave you flat on your back helpless tender and open, a good poem can set your head on fire, a good book can make you feel like the walls of the world have blown open, a good song can shift everything in your life just a little to the left. these are very serious things & not to be reckoned with

[metamorphesque]

musings on regret

Ocean Vuong, Betsy Dadd, Emily Palermo, Seung Ah Paik, Agust D (Min Yoongi), Timur Akhriev, John Greenleaf Whittier, Arthur Miller

[luthienne]

Sally Rooney, Beautiful World, Where Are You

[Text ID: To think of childhood gave her a funny queasy feeling, because it had been real life once and now it was something else.]

[hjarta-deactivated20260124]

i’m watching an ocean vuong video right now and he just said “language is real. the power of it is that it gets deeper than any human touch. if i were to touch you right now, i would only get to your skin. but when i speak to you, i’m all the way through”

[weltenwellen]

Ada Limón, from “I Have Wanted Clarity in Light of My Lack of Light”, The Hurting Kind

[r4mu]

[junepours]

plenty of emotions.

[exhaled-spirals]

“In fact, I love all repose and all that reposes, all thrift and moderation, and am in my inmost self, unfriendly toward any haste and agitation.”

— Robert Walser, The Walk

[ne0ntigress]

-Nicole Krauss, The History of Love

[psikonauti]

David Hockney (English ,b. 1937)

In the Dull Village (Illustrations for Fourteen Poems from C.P. Cavafy) ,1966

Etching and aquatint on paper

[firstfullmoon]

With time, this will become easier to hold because grief is good to us both. Grief says, I hope summer is kinder because grief knows you deserve kindness. Grief weeps when the world does not give it to you. This kind of love is not out of use. Grief is not a useful thing to begin with and neither am I — so here we are, mourning our whole lives. Let’s marvel at our tenacity. We knew from the start. This did not dissuade us. Something inside you said, Reach for the world and you did. There is nothing to do now but run our hands under cold water. No, I am not sorry either. Sorrow is a promise I make without sense. It sounds like a prayer. It circles my memory.

— Sanna Wani, from “Sorrow is a promise,” in My Grief, the Sun

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

“Give me your mouth. Your grace is as beautiful as sleep. You move against me like a wave That moves in sleep. Your body spreads across my brain Like a bird filled summer; Not like a body, not like a separate thing. But like a nimbus that hovers Over every other thing in all the world”

— Kenneth Rexroth, from “ When We with Sappho,” The Phoenix and the Tortoise (New Directions, 1944)

[thethirdbear]

[ryebreadgf]

The Rules by Leila Chatti