South London Forever
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@lovelandfroqs
South London Forever

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teddy cow
wee heilan coo calf via taylor ridge homestead
Emily Dickinson, from a letter to Mary Bowles (about December 1858)
when i die i want u all to come to my grave and put stickers on it
âThe Welsh language has a unique character which reminds me of the countryâs landscapes and history. For example, the Welsh version of describing something as âmusic to my earsâ is âmĂŞl ar fy mysedd,â or âhoney on my fingersâ. To me thatâs so much more poetic and sensual than the English idiom, and it reminds me of Walesâ history of poetry and song, and the fact that living in Wales â with its huge mountains, long beaches and 365-day rain cycle â is often a very sensory experience. There is something ancient about that phrase: when I say it I can almost feel how old the Welsh language is. Perhaps the fact that languages are embodied with so much culture and history is why it feels so poignant to forget them, and so painful.â
â Ellie Mae O'Hagan, Losing my Welsh: what it feels like to forget a language

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I canât believe that the sacredness of shared meals is not well known???Â
Mealtime is an extremely important cultural and social ritual. There are psychological benefits for cooking for other people, and serving a meal stabilizes the emotions between the provider and the receiver. Cooking with your partner, like accomplishing any task together, strengthens relationships. Eating together strengthens communal bonds and helps with mental health. Sharing the same food with someone else builds trust, cooperation, and a sense of connectivity. Itâs a shame how in our fast paced society we donât value the importance of regularly breaking bread with one another
tender quotes:
1. âThe number of hours we have together is actually not so large. Please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving. Please forget your scarf in my life and come back later for it.â (mikko harvey, from âfor m,â)
2. âI still feel like the world is a piece of bread, Iâm holding out half to you.â (eileen myles)
3. âWherever you are itâs okay. You can come back from it. Whatever happened to you down there, whatever the world looks like now, thatâs not how it always looks. Thatâs not how itâs always going to look. Thereâs more. Thereâs always more.â (patrick ness, from âmore than thisâ)
4. âI was making dinner and I got a message. Go look outside, she said, go look at the sunset. My apartment is small, with four rooms and two windows that donât see much light so I had no idea. I pulled my coat on and hurried out. I was running to this sunset, suddenly the only thing that mattered. I hurried past the taller buildings to the park and the sky was leaking shades of pink and purple. It was beautiful and fleeting, there one minute and gone the next. I wouldâve missed it; I almost kissed it. And so I started thinking, how great it would be to get a nudge, a tap on your shoulder, a moment or two before your life changes. Stop what youâre doing and look around, youâll want to remember this later. In a minute, youâre going to fall in love.â (kelsey danielle, from âunexpected sunsetâ)
5. âToday is a day like any other: twenty-four hours, a little sunshine, a little rain. Listen, says ambition, nervously shifting her weight from one boot to anotherâwhy donât you get going? For there I am, in the mossy shadows, under the trees. And to tell the truth I donât want to let go of the wrists of idleness, I donât want to sell my life for money, I donât even want to come in out of the rain.â (mary oliver, from âblack oaksâ)
looking back on old photos of yourself is an act of mourning, always. how many times have you looked at pictures of yourself from even just a few months ago and thought âwho is that? did i look like that? sheâs beautifulâ but fail to reconcile it with how you felt. that girl is me and that girl is beautiful but i have never been her, yâknow? and the cycle is endless. i am always longing to be myself from two years ago, or six months ago, or last night. SHE was beautiful in ways i donât know how to be now. iâm grieving for the death of my past selves, constantly, and grieving for the time they wasted mourning THEIR predecessors when they couldâve been feeling beautiful. in between disparaging remarks about the weight she holds around her midsection, my mother shows me photos from when she was younger and handles them gently; âi was kind of a looker back then, wasnât i?â i wonder what iâll be saying about this body in thirty years. i wonder if itâll be kind
water jewels in the spiderwebs

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â âStopping by Woods on a Snowy Eveningâ by Robert Frost
Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood
âI AM ENDLESSLY CHANGING AND THUS MUST CONSTANTLY REAFFIRM MY LOVE FOR MYSELFâ
âEverything will end in dreams, It seems Tomorrow fallen blossoms will sadden butterflies.â
â Su Shi, from To Governor Xu on a Mountain-Climbing Day (tr. by Xu Yuanchong)

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âYour hair is lost in the forest, your feet touching mine. Asleep you are bigger than the nightâ
â Octavio Paz, Last Dawn (via theperfumemaker)