brain and nerve and bounding heart

lauren / twenty-eight / dublin

[theflowershop]

Did you used to live in Amsterdam/Dublin and write about moving city/a break up/boy who broke your heart (about 11 years ago..)?

If so, your writing was/is amazing. It was so special and comforting. You brought me so much joy and comfort in my late teens, especially when I moved to a new city on my own to start university.

I still think about you when I scroll on tumblr (once in a blue moon) expecting to see one of your written posts. It used to feel like a community of online friends. Looking at someone’s tumblr blog was like a window into their mind/soul. Instagram isn’t like that.

Scrolling on here still brings a sense of comfort, but it feels like everything has changed now.

I wonder how you are doing. How did your life turn out. And are you still in Dublin? Do you still write?

Thank you for sharing parts of your life over the years!

I don’t even know what to say - I’m on tumblr for the first time in what must be at least three or four years and this message was waiting for me. I can’t tell you how moved I am that there’s someone out there who still thinks of me from time to time, who remembers these details about such important times in my life. Genuinely I am just so emotional over this.

I am really happy to tell you that right now, I’m curled up on the couch with a glass of wine next to my gorgeous golden retriever that I share with my husband. We just bought our apartment back in April. We’ve been together for nine years, married for over six years, and he is the best person I’ve ever known. He is Irish, we live in Dublin, and I’m now an Irish citizen! It feels corny to say this but for me life has worked out beyond my wildest dreams. Not to say there hasn’t been hard work involved, of course there has, but I also just am living the life I always wanted and can really tell you that I never compromised on what I wanted.

I really can’t express how emotional this message made me. Don’t think I’ll ever leave tumblr for good but this is just such a good reminder of how much joy and friendship and happiness I have in my life because of this silly little website. ❤️

[twirld]

An Unknown Noblewoman of the Bourbon Court (detail, 1615) Frans Pourbus the Younger

[beatricecenci]

Oswald Achenbach (German, 1827-1905)

Blick auf Capri

[theoptia]

Marian Engel, from Notebooks: "Ah, Mon Cahier, čoute"

Text ID: The moon / Rose from the sea like Aphrodite

[midsummerknife]

the odyssey, book xxiii - the recognition by penelope

[cultof-aphrodite]

Sicily 🐚

[happyheidi]

the moon in paintings. x

[huariqueje]

Stack of Books - Jean-Philippe Delhomme

French, b. 1959 -

Oil, 23 x 17 cm.

[enchantedbook]

King Arthur and the Weeping Queens by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, 1856

[simena]

Sebastino Luciano (detail)

[cafeinevitable-deactivated20220]

Breakfast in Bed

ph. Simon Jen

[beatricecenci]

Claude Monet (French, 1840-1926)

Route à La Cavée, Pourville

[laclefdescoeurs]

Glimmering Water of a Setting Sun, Constantin Alexandrovitch Westchiloff

[a-few-good-books]

bookshelves at St. Paul’s Cathedral

[voguedolce]

bags at peter pilotto ss19

[firstfullmoon]

INTERVIEWER: It didn’t feel like a poem, it felt like falling into a painting, or as if someone had handed me a jewel.

CARSON: Yes, that you travel inside of. I think that’s what poems are supposed to do, and I think it’s what the ancients mean by imitation. When they talk about poetry, they talk about mimesis as the action that the poem has, in reality, on the reader. Some people think that means the poet takes a snapshot of an event and on the page you have a perfect record. But I don’t think that’s right; I think a poem, when it works, is an action of the mind captured on a page, and the reader, when he engages it, has to enter into that action. And so his mind repeats that action and travels again through the action, but it is a movement of yourself through a thought, through an activity of thinking, so by the time you get to the end you’re different than you were at the beginning and you feel that difference.

— Anne Carson, from The Art of Poetry No. 88

[huariqueje]

Stack of Books - Jean-Philippe Delhomme

French, b. 1959 -

Oil, 23 x 17 cm.