don't go, @windcrys - Tumblr Blog

steadyhunterzombie

George Bellows, Riverfront No. 1, 1915

nobrashfestivity

Edvard Munch Kiss on the Hair Pencil 1910

sadnessdollart

Daedalus and Icarus, Detail.

by Orazio Riminaldi, (c. 1625)

calleido

county clare, ireland

weepingwidar

Jessie Homer French (US-American, 1940) - The Sunken Grave (2017)

derangedrhythms

As Sokrates tells it, your story begins the moment Eros enters you. That incursion is the biggest risk of your life. How you handle it is an index of the quality, wisdom and decorum of the things inside you. As you handle it you come into contact with what is inside you, in a sudden and startling way. You perceive what you are, what you lack, what you could be. What is this mode of perception, so different from ordinary perception that it is well described as madness? How is it that when you fall in love you feel as if suddenly you are seeing the world as it really is? A mood of knowledge floats out over your life. You seem to know what is real and what is not. Something is lifting you toward an understanding so complete and clear it makes you jubilant. This mood is no delusion, in Sokrates’ belief. It is a glance down into time, at realities you once knew, as staggeringly beautiful as the glance of your beloved.

Anne Carson, from ‘Eros the Bittersweet: An Essay’

twoweeks

https://www.instagram.com/p/BzKPT1RlTr8

weltenwellen

Buttercream Joy Sullivan

torstherapy

apoemaday

“As imperceptibly as Grief...”

by Emily Dickinson

As imperceptibly as Grief The Summer lapsed away — Too imperceptible at last, To seem like Perfidy — A Quietness distilled As Twilight long begun Or Nature spending with herself Sequestered Afternoon — The Dusk drew earlier in — The Morning foreign shone — A courteous, yet harrowing Grace, As Guest, that would be gone — And thus, without a Wing Or service of a Keel Our Summer made her light escape Into the Beautiful.