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@idontgetitbutok
carved into a cobblestone in brussels, photo via maarten inghels

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O, to take what we love inside, to carry within us an orchard, to eat not only the skin, but the shade, not only the sugar, but the days, to hold the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into the round jubilance of a peach.
—Li-Young Lee, excerpt of "From Blossoms", in Rose
it should work
it should work but it doesn’t
I have what you want and you have what i want
but there is something that defies science and ruins it for everybody
Warsan Shire, from “Backwards”, Bless the Daughter Raised by a Voice in Her Head

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fr. “Antilamentation” by Dorianne Laux
[ID: Text reading, "Regret nothing. Not the cruel novels you read to the end just to find out who killed the cook. Not the insipid movies that made you cry in the dark, in spite of your intelligence, your sophistication. Not the lover you left quivering in a hotel parking lot, the one you beat to the punchline, the door, or the one who left you in your red dress and shoes, the ones that crimped your toes, don’t regret those. Not the nights you called god names and cursed your mother, sunk like a dog in the livingroom couch, chewing your nails and crushed by loneliness. You were meant to inhale those smoky nights over a bottle of flat beer, to sweep stuck onion rings across the dirty restaurant floor, to wear the frayed coat with its loose buttons, its pockets full of struck matches. You’ve walked those streets a thousand times and still you end up here. Regret none of it, not one of the wasted days you wanted to know nothing, when the lights from the carnival rides were the only stars you believed in, loving them for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved. You’ve traveled this far on the back of every mistake, ridden in dark-eyed and morose but calm as a house after the TV set has been pitched out the upstairs window. Harmless as a broken ax. Emptied of expectation. Relax. Don’t bother remembering any of it. Let’s stop here, under the lit sign on the corner, and watch all the people walk by." /end ID]
I must think more about H. and less about myself. Yes, that sounds very well. But there’s a snag. I am thinking about her nearly always. Thinking of the H. facts—real words, looks, laughs, and actions of hers. But it is my own mind that selects and groups them. Already, less than a month after her death, I can feel the slow, insidious beginning of a process that will make the H. I think of into a more and more imaginary woman. Founded on fact, no doubt. I shall put in nothing fictitious (or I hope I shan’t). But won’t the composition inevitably become more and more my own? The reality is no longer there to check me, to pull me up short, as the real H. so often did, so unexpectedly, by being so thoroughly herself and not me.
—C. S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
Mary Oliver, "Blue Iris." Devotions
Are you becoming what you've always hated?
Isle of Dogs / Game of Thrones / Painting by Jenn Mazza / Unknown / Ancestral Memory by Hari Alluri / Unknown / Venetta Octavia / Emma Tranter / Unknown / Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo / @ machineryangel

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i. The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, Sylvia Plath / ii. As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks 1964-1980, Susan Sontag / iii. Suddenly, It's December, Margaux Paul / iv. Waiting for This Story to End Before I Begin Another, Jan Heller Levi / v. The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde / vi. The Letters of Gustave Flaubert: 1830-1857, Gustave Flaubert / vii. unknown / viii. @inanotherunivrse / ix. @violentcherries / x. Heaven, Mieko Kawakami (thank u @aworsening for attaching the sources)
i need everyone to know that community is what will save us all in every single way imaginable. you forming a bond with your neighbour or coworker might help them move house or feel less alone or have the courage to leave an unhealthy living environment. you helping a stranger might provide them with hope. in turn, being able to lean on your community in times of need will save you. your broader bonds with your community are the revolution we need. our society seeks to divide and separate us in so many ways but we are all so much more united in our struggles and joys than you are made to believe. we need to hold onto each other very tightly.
thinking about edvard munch's "The Sun" (1911)
like yeah thats how it feels. thats what it feels like to exist sometimes. he gets it
Also very big! Takes up two stories!
“but we joke and laugh otherwise we would start screaming.”
— Charles Bukowski
Ocean Vuong, "Thanksgiving 2006" from Night Sky with Exit Wounds

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Frank Bidart, 1984
landscape with fruit rot and millipede, richard siken
[text ID: The paint dries eventually. The bodies decompose eventually. /end ID]