November

Sleeping, writing and crying.

[gaws]

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Unknown (1963) by Leonora Carrington

[ordeals]

[hayleypowers]

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[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

“My imagination is dead, my genius lost, my energies sleep.”

— Mary Shelley, from a diary entry wr. c. January 1824 featured in “Journals,”

[alionundermyskin]

[cat-peach]

mafioseo: Wanda Koop

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[fuckyeahpostnihilism]

A collaboration between painter Leonora Carrington and Alexandro Jodorowsky in Mexico, 1957. “ During a party, Luis Buñuel, seduced by Carrington’s beauty and emboldened by the notion that she had transcended all bourgeois morality, proposed (with his characteristic bluntness) that she become his mistress. Without even waiting for her answer, he gave her the key to the secret studio that he used as a love nest and told her to meet him at three o’clock the next afternoon. Early the next morning, Leonora went to visit the place alone. She found it tasteless: It looked exactly like a motel room. Taking advantage of the fact that she was in her menstrual period, she covered her hands with blood and used them to make bloody handprints all over the walls in order to provide a bit of decoration for that anonymous, impersonal room. Buñuel never spoke to her again.” - Alejandro Jodorowsky, The Spiritual Journey of Alejandro Jodorowsky: The Creator of El Topo ”“

[love]

[opiumcrone]

Leonora Carrington  __  Letter to Dana, 1957

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[weltenwellen]

“I wish you a kinder sea.”

— Emily Dickinson, from a letter to Catherine May Scott c. August 1848

[harmed]

[candida44]

[softwaring]