Where was she? In her own head, like a dream; in the bellows of her lungs. What was she? Perhaps a child. Perhaps a corpse. Perhaps a fern in the forest in the storm; a singing bird.
Lorrie Moore, from Birds of America: Stories: “Terrific Mother”

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Where was she? In her own head, like a dream; in the bellows of her lungs. What was she? Perhaps a child. Perhaps a corpse. Perhaps a fern in the forest in the storm; a singing bird.
Lorrie Moore, from Birds of America: Stories: “Terrific Mother”

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Cloaked
Meditation without Arms
Auguste Rodin
Marta Astfalck-Vietz. Untitled (Self-Portrait), from the series: Waiting, circa 1927.
Bolesław Biegas
Przeczucie (Presentiment), 1903

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— Gustave Flaubert, from a letter to Louise Colet (via letsbelonelytogetherr)
Ma déplorable manie de l analyse m épuise.
Je doute de tout, et même de mon doute.
Sanne Sannes
Huiwen. J, madeleine
Eva Watson-Schütze, The Rose
Éliane Excoffier - De la série "Petit lexique de beauté", 1999

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“I fall asleep whispering "I am safer alone I am safer alone l am safer alone l am safer alone" [...] Forgive me, memory is a rope around the neck.”
— Clementine von Radics, from James
Always withdrawn … she wandered like a ghost into the privacy of herself, a place from which she never fully emerged.
— from Stoner by John Williams
December 8, 1925 Journals of Anais Nin 1923-1927 [volume 2]
Silvia Rea
Winter, 1931-1932 The diary of Anaïs Nin 1903-1977

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“Someday death will take us to another star.”
— Vincent van Gogh (via poeticsofdeath)
Copenaghen on Flickr.
09/2015