sideblog to @ravagd !

There is nothing to be afraid of, it is only the wind changing to the east, it is only your father     the thunder your mother     the rain

I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary.

“Ontological anxiety, “Weltangst.” The world blank—or crumbling, shredding. People are wind-up dolls. I’m afraid.”

“Grief may be our first reaction to loss, but grief and mourning are not exactly the same thing. If we lose someone we love, be it through death or separation, mourning is never an automatic process. For many people, in fact, it never happens. Without these [processes of thinking through loss] we may remain caught in a stagnant, unresolved mourning or melancholia. In mourning, we grieve the dead; in melancholia, we die with them.”

Blackness isn’t black. It is the last degree of reds. The secret blood of reds.

Every thing that you love, you will eventually lose, but in the end, love will return in a different form.

And it didn’t matter what was beyond us, or what came before us, […] we were simply going forward, riotous and windswept, and all too willing to be struck by something shining and mad, and so furiously hot it could kill us.

Forgetfulness of the body can also be a death.

             How can I see anything