Monterey Bay Aquarium
if i look back, i am lost
Discoholic 🪩
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
pixel skylines
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
sheepfilms
Love Begins
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
RMH
Show & Tell
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dirt enthusiast
Kiana Khansmith
Misplaced Lens Cap
JVL
Janaina Medeiros
AnasAbdin
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@wheresthefunk
“The power of the dead is that we think they see us all the time. The dead have a presence. Is there a level of energy composed solely of the dead? They are also in the ground, of course, asleep and crumbling. Perhaps we are what they dream.”
— Don DeLillo, White Noise, 98 (via weil-weil)
Franz Kafka, in a letter to Milena Jesenská, from Letters to Milena.
FRANZ KAFKA x JOHNSON TSANG
Letters to Felice (1912 - 1917, published 1967);
Lucid Dream Series II (2018) + Open Mind Series I (2017); sculpture, porcelain
The Diaries of Franz Kafka, 1914-1923
“What sinks us to a deeper melancholy: sexual incompleteness or its spastic conclusion? What seems to line our life with satin? what brings the rouge to both our cheeks? Loneliness, emptiness, worthlessness, grief … each is an absence in us. We have no pain, but we have lost all pleasure, and the lip that meets our lip is always one half of our own. Our state is exactly the name of precisely nothing, and our memories, with polite long faces, come to view us and to say to one another that we never looked better; that we seem at last at peace; that our passing was—well—sad—still—doubtless for the best (all this in a whisper). Disappointment, constant loss, despair … a taste, a soft quality in the air, a color, a flutter: permanent in their passage. We were not up to it. We missed it. We could not retain it. It will never be back. […] So it’s true: Being without Being is blue.”
— William H. Gass, from On Being Blue: A Philosophical Inquiry (Godine, 1975)
ALBERT CAMUS
Caligula (1944);
original photos and edit
THE SEVENTH SEAL (Det sjunde inseglet) dir. Ingmar Bergman
“Me leaving is not the confirmation of all your fears about me. It is not. It’s because of them. Okay? Can you see that? It’s your fear I can’t take. It’s your distrust and fear I’ve been trying to fight. And I can’t anymore. I’m out of gas on it. If I loved you even a little less maybe I could take it. But this is killing me, this constant feeling that I am always scaring you and never making you feel secure. Can you see that?”
— David Foster Wallace, Brief Interviews with Hideous Men
Albert Camus, “The Adulterous Wife”, Exile and the Kingdom: Stories (trans. Carol Cosman)
[Text ID: “vast solitudes wheeled within her.”]
“I sometimes think that I enjoy suffering. But the truth is I would prefer something else.”
— Fernando Pessoa
“The same feeling of not belonging, of futility, wherever I go: I pretend interest in what matters nothing to me, I bestir myself mechanically or out of charity, without ever being caught up, without ever being somewhere. What attracts me is elsewhere, and I don’t know what that elsewhere is.”
— E. M. Cioran.
“At this very moment — it’s frightful — if I exist, it is because I am horrified at existing. I am the one who pulls myself from the nothingness to which I aspire.”
— Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea
“What am I guilty of, then? Of having loved and continuing to love- no, not of loving: of longing.”
— Roberto Bolaño, Woes of the True Policeman
“Lost in an empty room / with everyone you know.”
— — Curtis LeBlanc, “Derealization,” Birding in the Glass Age of Isolation
"I would set you free, if I knew how. But it isn't free out here. All the animals, the plants, the minerals, even other kinds of men, are being broken and reassembled every day, to preserve an elite few, who are the loudest to theorize on freedom, but the least free of all. I can't even give you hope that it will be different someday--that They'll come out, and forget death, and lose Their technology's elaborate terror, and stop using every other form of life without mercy to keep what haunts men down to a tolerable level--and be like you instead, simply here, simply alive..."
-Thomas Pynchon, Gravity's Rainbow
Leaving who one was for a brief time, then returning. But the self that one returned to was never exactly the same as the self that one had left behind.
– Haruki Murakami, from “Drive My Car,” Men Without Women: Stories (Alfred A. Knopf, 2017)
Gonzalo Sicre Metaphysician reading The Aleph (2020) "A man sets out to draw the world. As the years go by, he peoples a space with images of provinces, kingdoms, mountains, bays, ships, islands, fishes, rooms, instruments, stars, horses, and individuals. A short time before he dies, he discovers that the patient labyrinth of lines traces the lineaments of his own face." Jorge Luis Borges, The Aleph and Other Stories.
