Volver (Spain, 2006)
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Volver (Spain, 2006)
Mark Rothko, Untitled, 1968
Acrylic on paper mounted on linen 39 Œ x 25 3/8 in. (99.5 x 64.5 cm) Estate/Inventory MAR G Collection of Kate Rothko Prizel.
 © Kate Rothko Prizel and Christopher Rothko
Fucking hell Iâm sleeping to this for the rest of my life
june, finland, 2023
A foggy valley, 2015
British Library digitised image from page 34 of âFairy Maryâs Dream. By A. F. L. With illustrations by the Authorâ (1870)
âBut, here was a curious thing. The more I tried to give up thinking of her, the more I said to myself, âSheâs nothing to youâ, the harder I tried to pluck the idea of her out of my heart, the more she stayed there.â
The Handmaiden (2016) dir. Park Chan-wook
always a bridesmaid, never a bride
Sanditon (2019 - 2023) created by Andrew Davies
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Foggy path
sick of streaming platforms' blatant disrespect towards the sanctity of the "watching end-credits while collecting your thoughts" ritual
A post about romantic relationships
so Iâve been in a relationship for 5 years now. And I see a lot of posts about how people think relationships mean having butterflies forever, your heart beating faster when they walk into a room, about cuddling together every night, legs intertwined, that youâd be so happy to live together youâd sleep on a double bed with each other every night.
And its not really like that, at least not to me.
You stop getting the butterflies when you live together. Your heart no longer speeds up when you see them, but instead, everything calms down. When youre in the room with them, you feel calm, and secure. When you cuddle them you feel your heart beat slow, and the sound of their breathing carry you towards comfort. It doesnt feel like a roller coaster anymore, it feels like home.
You donât sleep curled up with each other every night, legs twisted between theirs so tight its hard to tell where yours begin and theirs end.
Instead, you sleep comfortably, side by side, sometimes facing different directions. But every night, you find yourself scooting backwards on the bed so you bump into them. You snuggle against their arm, or stroke their hair as they fall asleep. There are nights when my boyfriend, in his sleep, reaches around me and pulls me to him, like a child with his teddybear, like I am his comfort.
 In the wee hours of the morning before the dawn breaks, when the world is blue and you see through cracked eyes, you curl into their chest and inhale their scent before drifting back to sleep.Â
Kisses arenât always romantic and firey anymore. But there are so much more of them now. There are cold kisses when youâre eating ice cream in the summer, and sticky kisses over breakfast pancakes. Thereâs âim leaving nowâ kisses, and âone more kiss before you goâ kisses. Thereâs sleepy morning kisses before work, when you donât remember the alarm going off but instead the press of their lips against yours is what brings you into the day.
Thereâs kisses before sleep, and, you are so sweet with the things you do kisses. Thereâs kisses because you treat animals so tenderly, and Iâm so glad iâm with you and not someone else kisses. Thereâs quick kisses in the aisles of the grocery store, when its loud and you gravitate together, when instead of having your own personal space and their own personal space, its both of yours together, and you step into their chest to take up less area together.Â
You donât always text each other with confessions of love and care like you used to, because thatâs a given now, and youâve moved on to quirky inside jokes about the life youve built together. You share looks of exasperation and amusement in public, your own little world against the outside one.Â
Relationships arenât always a fairy tale. Theyâre not always fireworks and sparks, at least, after the start.
But they are a quiet rhythm and hum of love and care. Itâs not a fire in your soul, but one in your hearth, keeping you warm and comfortable, comforting you as you drowsily drift into sleep.
And I love that.
Anna Karenina (2012)