tu es dans tous mes mots et dans tous mes silences

Sally Mann (American; b 1951), Holding Virginia (1989), from the series “Immediate Family”

17 мая 1947

В самолете,

Суббота, вторая половина дня,

Ньюфаундленд

Мой милый, чудесный, любимый “молодой абориген”, ты опять заставил меня плакать, но нежными слезами, нежными, как все, что исходит от тебя. Я села в самолет, открыла твою книгу, и мне захотелось увидеть твой почерк. Я взглянула на титульный лист, жалея, что не попросила написать мне что-нибудь на память, и вдруг увидела твою надпись, красивую, ласковую, полную любви. Я уткнулась носом в иллюминатор и расплакалась прямо над синим морем, но это были сладкие слезы, слезы любви, нашей любви. Я тебя люблю. Шофер такси спросил: “Это ваш муж?” — “Нет”. — “А, значит, друг? — и добавил сочувственно: — Как он переживает!” Я не удержалась и ответила: “Нам тяжело расставаться, ведь Париж так далеко!” Тогда он с большой теплотой заговорил со мной о Париже. Хорошо, что ты не поехал со мной: на Мэдисон авеню и в Ла-Гуардиа были какие-то знакомые — один бог знает, до чего противными бывают иногда французы, и тут оказался как раз худший вариант. Я была не в себе, не могла даже плакать. Потом самолет наконец взлетел. Люблю самолеты. Когда внутри все бурлит, то самолет, по-моему, самый подходящий способ передвижения: он гармонирует с состоянием души. Самолет, любовь, небо, боль, надежда — все сливается в одно. Я думала о тебе, перебирала в памяти каждую мелочь, читала твою книгу, которая, кстати, мне нравится больше, чем предыдущая. Нам подали виски и прекрасный обед: курица в сметане, шоколадное мороженое. Ты пришел бы в восторг от этих видов: облака, море, берега, леса, деревни — все как на ладони, и ты улыбался бы своей теплой мальчишеской улыбкой. Над Ньюфаундлендом уже сумерки, а в Нью-Йорке было только три часа. Остров необычайно красив, весь в темных соснах и тихих печальных озерах, а кое-где — вкрапления снега. Тебе бы наверняка понравилось. Мы приземлились и теперь должны ждать два часа. Интересно, где ты сейчас? Может быть, тоже в самолете? Когда ты вернешься в наш маленький дом, я буду ждать тебя там, спрятавшись под кроватью, да и просто везде. Теперь я всегда буду с тобой — на унылых улицах Чикаго, в надземке, в твоей комнате. Я буду с тобой, как преданная жена с любимым мужем. У нас не будет пробуждения, потому что это не сон: это чудесная реальность, и все только начинается. Я чувствую тебя рядом, и, куда бы я теперь ни пошла, ты последуешь за мной — не только твой взгляд, а ты весь, целиком. Я тебя люблю, вот все, что я могу сказать. Ты обнимаешь меня, я к тебе прижимаюсь и целую тебя, как целовала недавно.

September 11, 2019

They call it "second hand book market", but I call it "old books graveyard".

I'M ANGYYYYY!!!!!

Post a picture of your favourite book, annotated or otherwise.

Outfit pictures – embrace your individual style.

Any pretty locations you visit: libraries, coffee shops, campus buildings, vintage stores, etc.

What you study: confuse the literature students by posting your science work. Stun the science academics with your knowledge of your favourite authors/genres. Help the researchers with your history notes.

Where you study – your own desk, what’s on your desk, when you like to work, etc.

Other: jewellery, your favourite mug, pretty flowers, candles, personal book collection, etc.

I’ve been thinking about this for a hot minute and since there are less than 100 days left to 2019, I thought it a good idea to finally propose it: A 100 days of Dark Academia challenge! Similar to 100 days of productivity, it’s aimed to pave the way for a “better self” in little steps. But really, I just wanted an excuse to be pretentious and feel good about it.

some inspiration on what to do:

daily photos, text posts etc aren’t mandatory but would be appreciated

make it a priority to educate yourself and go the extra mile to broaden your horizon: watch documentaries on youtube, read articles on google scholar, check out the audiobook selection of your local library

do something with your hands: practise your instrument if you play one, improve your language skills, learn to bake or cook, draw and paint

dress in a way that makes yourself proud

carry a journal wherever you go - it’s the perfect place to write down your aspirations and dreams and thus bring you closer to being that person, but it can also be used to note down quotes or sentences you overheard, little scenes of your daily life that struck a nerve with you - you’ll enjoy rereading those little snippets later and it’ll sharpen your eye for the small wonders! (you can of course use tumblr for that, but a physical notebook is wonderful as well!)

enjoy being alone. go to museums, cinemas, parks, cafés, libraries. enjoy the silence. (you can note your experiences here in the journal!)

make a list of classics to be read during the challenge. make sure to include female writers as well, please! (suggestion: 10 books?)

Okay, so I noticed that no one gives independent studiers in the academia community credit. By independent study, I mean people who are not in college/uni but still study history, art, philosophy, etc. 

So, here is my take or what I think a independent academia aesthetic would be like.

The Writer- A sunlight bedroom. Notebooks and papers scatter everywhere. Turning your room into a literary wonderland. Subtle upbeat music plays softly around you. Encyclopedias and dictionaries are laid out on the bed. You glance at them every so often, making sure that your grammar is correct. Your hair is pulled back into a bun. Loose strands kiss your face softly. Glasses sit on the tip of your nose. You push them up as your writing intensifies. Your room is being filled with the harmony of typing. Your hot tea is going cold. Your favorite sweater cradles you as you work. You glance out the window, just to take a break for a moment. Imagery of your story, plays in your head like a movie. Filling your heart with bliss.

The Painter- The moon shines through your studio windows. You throw your hair back in frustration, as you fix the shading of your painting. The sleeves of your shirt are folded. Your hands covered in cheap paint. Red acrylic colors your cheek, as you wipe your sweated brow. You look to your phone and notice it’s past your bedtime. It’s Saturday night and you have nothing else to do. Your craft is your life. Your art is your outlet. You clean off your brush, turning the water into melodic colors. Prepping the brush for the next color. You reference your sketchbook a few times, making sure that every detail is perfect. As you come to the last details, you step back and marvel at your work. Making a few criticisms in your head. You pick up your phone and snap a few pictures. Excited to share your work with the world.

The Photographer- It is the prime of the day and you’re out on the prowl. You put on your headphones and turn up the music. Your favorite song plays as you turn on your camera. Looking for subjects, to turn into art. Your camera hangs low to your heart. A smile on your face, as you snap a few strangers. The moment is captured, the photo is crisp. You reach in your backpack as you search for another camera battery. You stand in the breeze as you capture some flowers. Your shoe is untied but adds to your charm. A lovely old couple volunteers for a shot. You frown disappointed that your camera has died. But the memory is filled with beauty that could make someone cry. You smile victorious, as you head home. Eager to post the photos that will thrive.

The Bookworm-You’re finally in the comfort of your room. Everyone is out. Work has long been over. You finally get some time to yourself. You stumble around the stacks of books in your room. You grab your favorite books, along with some snacks and a beverage. You close your room door, shutting the world out. The tv is off. Your windows are closed. Leaving you alone in your safe haven. You pull up your blanket and dive into a new world. Leaving everyone and everything in the noiseless void. You face brightens up, as the book takes a turn. But your phone starts to ring and interrupts your flow. You answer it and rush off your beloved friend. Then reenter into the story again. 

The Historian- You sit at your desk as you spin a globe. You check your watch. It’s half past noon. Your papers are organize as you take notes on ancient Nubian. Your coffee is hot and you take a few sips. You poke your head up as a documentary comes on. You’ve seen it before but you watch it anyways. Pushing away from your desk, you grab a book on ancient civilization. Every book in your care is alphabetically organized. It’s how you’ve always preferred it. Your brows scrunch up as you compare ancient cultures. Wondering about their primitive ways. Recognizing their genius in certain matters. You get a thrill out of translating your favorite sonnets. You search through the web, in search of new books. As you snack on some food. No day is complete without an essay or two.

go to the library at 2am to do extensive research on a topic that interests you

wake up early and go to a hill or a park to watch the sunrise

explore the old graveyards of the town and read the inscriptions in the headstones

spend a day exploring museums, admiring art and learning interesting pieces of history

find a second hand bookstore, buy the book with the most notations on the margins, and later write down your thoughts among the writings of the previous owner

go to a tour intended for tourists and ask the tour guide everything about the sights you saw that left you curious