.

results of @nosebleedclub’s earlier writing sesh. contained vignette about a man in a grave. something I wanted to hear, I guess. something I need right now.

quiet days filled with music…

“Any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we are doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again. ” - Homer

Ig: pixel.planetarium

Dominicanenkerk. x

Detail of ‘An Elegant Bouquet’ by Gustave Jean Jacquet (french, 1846 - 1909)

[Text ID: “Low hangs the moon, it rose late, It is lagging — O I think it is heavy with love, with love.”]

[Text ID: “I dreamt of you last night — as if I was playing the piano and you were turning the pages for me…”]

[Text ID: “She catches sight of herself in the mirror. But is that her over there? is that her, with the face of a scared rabbit, who’s thinking and waiting? (Whose little mouth is that? Whose little eyes are those? Yours, leave me alone.) If I don’t try to save myself, I’ll drown.”]

Fernando Pessoa, A Little Larger Than the Entire Universe: Selected Poems

— Bone Map: Poems, ‘Beekeeping’ by Sara Eliza Johnson

Valeria Luiselli, Tell Me How It Ends: An Essay in Forty Questions

House of Psychotic Women: An Autobiographical Topography of Female Neurosis in Horror and Exploitation Films, Kier-la Janisse