one night, a lifetime ago, he kissed her hand

Eliza / Lisbon + personal posts + flickr + goodreads + mubi var sc_project=6955009; var sc_invisible=1; var sc_security="206e6ecb";  

[gabbigolightly-deactivated20160]

Reading, 1986 by Guy Le Baube

[filmista]

L'année dernière à Marienbad (1961) dir. Alain Resnais

[an-itinerant-poet-deactivated20]

“so we blessed each other in a language we invented, more silent than thought, each word backlit as in a dream”

— D. Nurske, from section I of “A Couple in Garden City,” The Fall: Poems (Alfred A. Knopf, 2002)

[soiecerise]

“…the heart slips backward, remembering, remembering.”

— Anne Sexton, from “The Twelve-Thousand-Day Honeymoon” in The Complete Poems  (via exoticwild)

[cair--paravel]

[collectorsweekly]

Art Nouveau hair combs by Lucien Gaillard, circa 1900.

[filmaticbby]

A Tale of Springtime (1990) dir. Éric Rohmer

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

I dreamt of you last night—as if I was playing the piano and you were turning the pages for me.

Vladimir Nabokov, in a letter to Véra Nabokov, 12 January 1924, Letters to Véra, ed. and transl. Olga Voronina and Brian Boyd (Alfred A. Knopf, 2014)

[sacredwhores]

Agnès Varda - Jane B. par Agnès V. (1987)

[croathia]

“I truly loved Alfred. It isn’t enough to say I loved him, I adored him. And I don’t know why I write that in the past tense, for I love him still. And yet, in feelings of grief, there is an involuntary element, as well as an element of duty that fixes the involuntary part and ensures its durability.”

Marcel Proust’s letter to Reynaldo Hahn on his loved one who drowned in the Mediterranean in 1914.

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

It was very satisfying to sit there & read — And as I put down the book I sat quite a while — with eyes closed. I wished for you to be near me — You were in every word I read — you are in everything I see — & feel — & still you are not satisfied —

Georgia O’Keeffe, from a letter to Alfred Stieglitz written c. May 1922 (via violentwavesofemotion)

[saintjoan]

When we un-packed it, the Paris curator was embarrassed to discover lipstick marks on its cheek: someone in the Louvre had played at being Pygmalion—or Hadrian—and kissed it. And who could blame them? Up on a pedestal, center stage, the effect of its beauty was jaw-dropping.

[lifemaniac91]

[anintimacy]

Accept this face of mine, mute and begging. Accept this love I ask for.  Accept the part of me that is you.

Alejandra Pizarnik, from Extracting the Stone of Madness: Poems 1962-1972 (tr. Yvette Siegert)  (via anintimacy)

[kintay]

A poem, an exercise in omitting letters.

by Thomas Penny

[lenscratch]

© Danielle Voirin 

[gatakka]

Claude Monet - 11 Étretat, Sunset, c. 1882-3.

[youcannottakeitwithyou]

Henri Matisse Lovers