Monthly Archives: November 2015
Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet. Far away the sea sounds and resounds. Pablo Neruda, from “Here I Love You,” Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, translated by W.S. Merwin (Jonathan Cape, 2004)
di-a-man-te: Sappho (trans. Mary Barnard, 1958)
communicants: Chocolat (Claire Denis, 1988)
lifepornography: Helen Crawford with the Royal Ballet as Myrtha in Giselle
lesgardenias: “But a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she suffers so much more.”
Girls are cruelest to themselves. Someone like Emily Brontë, who remained a girl all her life despite her body as a woman, had cruelty drifted up in all the cracks of her like spring snow. Anne Carson, Excerpt of The Glass Essay from Glass, Irony and God (via lesgardenias)
httpkitsune: please try to take care of yourself ♡
otriare: personal / fashion