"do you wake up as i do, having forgotten what it is that hurts or where, until you move? there is a second of consciousness that is clean again. a second that is you, without memory or experience, the animal warm and waking into a brand new world. there is the sun dissolving the dark, and light as clear as music, filling the room where you sleep and the other rooms behind your eyes." jeanette winterson
I’ve been seeing so many beautiful quotes from her lately I need to read more of her books (I’ve only read Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit) Thank you.
Hɑlf in ɑ dreɑm, she pointed to ɑ roll of cloth. "There, on thɑt one I expected ɑ pɑttern of rosebushes to bloom." She turned. "And on thɑt one for the leɑves to chɑnge from green to gold to red. And up there on the wɑll the mountɑins should be pink in the sunrise ɑnd white beneɑth the moonlight. I wɑnt to see weɑvings with pɑtterns of sorrow ɑnd joy, or courɑge, mercy, ɑnd goodness." She stopped, feeling heɑt come into her fɑce. Where hɑd those words come from? -Avielle of Rhiɑ, by Diɑ Cɑlhoun.
Oh lovely, I’ve had her book Aria of the Sea on my to-read list for a long time now (can’t find it), but I’ll add this one as well :) thank you!
"The cherry jam shone bright red amongst the black and yellow wasps, and the wind stirred the branches of the oak trees, and spots of sunlight raced over the moss." - just close your eyes, imagine this :) It's an excerpt from one of my favourite books, Helena or the Sea in Summer, by Julián Ayesta
Beautiful, I will look it up, thank you. It conjured a wonderful picture in my head.
nietzche says, "there is always some reason in madness," and i can only believe that's true because as i lay in bed, fingertips pressed against my thighs and shadowy nightmares struggling to break into my ivory skull, the only thing i see is the glimmer of the rising sun just beyond my eyelids.
You haven't posted some of your writing in a while. I miss your words.
I have no words right now. November has stolen them all away with its winds and days that both blind and stifle you. I’m hoping they will come back on the back of the North wind, through a starless sky. Or maybe they won’t, maybe they are not mine anymore.
I’ve always been really nervous about sharing the music I like. It’s quite nerve-wracking for me. Making 8tracks mixes is a way of working on becoming more at ease in sharing the music I like. But yeah, I’m always hesitating before making new mixes and posting music on this tumblr.
For years I hadn’t thought of the impact Anne Frank and her journal and story had had on my life. It happened when I was about 8 or 9 years old and it changed the way I looked and understood the world. Though it was a significant standpoint in my life I had forgotten about it, or hadn’t thought about it, until recently. Going back in my memories and understanding this period has been a lot on my mind and it has been illuminating and challenging. I can’t remember everything clearly, my thought-process at the time, some events are blurry and ghostly. Almost as if they belong to somebody else.
Anyway, in the process or trying to re-explore the feelings and changes that happened to me at the time, and to remember Anne, her family, and her story (I haven’t read the book since that time) I have built a little gallery of pictures. It also reminds me that these were real people, not ghosts or characters, as it is so easy to forget at times.
I know she, and her words and life, have marked a lot of people, so I thought I would share.
MJ, it is very difficult to describe the dancers that live and shake inside of me. I think about you and I am reminded of velvet and flowers that surprise. What I love most about you is that you are passionate, and it is this kind of passion that is a drowning and resurfacing force. The love that you have for the world seems to sing, with everything that you are. You are a woman created, because you understand that there is so much hidden within the wind of a suppressed sneeze. Were I to stand next to you, to borrow your eyes for one day, I could scale the earth and sleep inside the astral glow of the upper atmosphere. Your strength stretches from peaceful shadows, and I imagine you to have pot plants and secret nooks. This leads me to ask you if you have lived in one place all your life. Have you? Or are you a rover?
You are lovely MJ, and more than that; you are so very real. Yours is not the loveliness of glitter and ghosts, that so many try to capture. Yours is the light shining from within, the little lantern of the heart. Some will mock you for this, for your honesty, your bravery, your joy. They are so used to artifice and veils, they can not truly face the Sun. Do not let them snuff your little light. Keep burning, that we may warm our hands and hearts by your sincerity. Love, S.
I’m speechless. Oh dear, thank you. I will cherish this, I will. xxx
I’m not quite sure I have a more precise idea than something along the lines of “art & books & being a decent human being & happiness”. I am not a very ambitious person. You know, I mostly wish to have a grand time, lots of fun, discover a few things, see places, and plenty of days where I get to browse the internet all day or watch TV in my pj’s. I don’t think there is anything else to do with life than just live it as much on your own terms as you can.
They never mean what they say, wrap all things in false ideas of politeness and manners, hiding secrets and words in the crease of their elbows and the sinister gleam of their eyes. Everything distorts and bends in their mouths, like dark caverns and grottoes, where you trudge and twist and turn, confounded by the brightness of their glass-like walls, as treacherous as they are beautiful.
Talking, discussing, is an exercise in code-breaking and reading between the lines. It’s a full novel in a foreign language to be deciphered in subterranean chambers with inaccurate dictionaries. Smiles (beware of smiles) never mean happiness, but you find yourself mesmerized by the dull yellow glow of their once gleaming enamels.
(You see: broken teeth, chapped lips, sneers and wet skin, sloppy tongues, blood-like red and the visible quiver of an expecting jaw, all ready to swallow you, you and your uncorrupted grin, and the lingering taste of strawberries picked under a summer sky)
It is a maze, the caverns of their teeth, and you are the prey. They, the Minotaur ready to eat you, digest you with a lick of their tongue, a snap of their lips and an unwanted kiss.