I Would Count The Number Of Times We Had Made Love. I Felt That Each Time Something New Had Been Added

A great halo And a tightening in the throat

Dorota Chróścielewska, tr. Regina Grol

It may be that we have become more interesting to each other at the expense of trust.

Anaïs Nin, Henry and June

We are the repetitions of the pieces of each other

Garous Abdolmalekian, Game tr. Ahmed Nadalizadeh and Idra Novey

“Tell me what you know about the body, and I will tell you how it must turn against itself.”

— Seam: ‘Interview with a Birangona’ by Tarfia Faizullah

'But you tell me profound loves do not satisfy you. You crave to give and to receive stronger sensations. I understand, but that is only a phase. You can play the game now and then, to heighten passion, but profound loves are the loves which suit your true self, and they alone will satisfy you. The more you act like yourself the nearer you come to a fulfillment of your real needs. You are still terribly afraid to be hurt; your imaginary sadism shows that. So afraid to be hurt that you want to take the lead and hurt first. I do not despair of reconciling you to your own image.'

Anaïs Nin, Henry and June

There is no question I am someone starving. There is no question I am making this journey to find out what that appetite is. And I see him free of it, as if he had simply crossed to the other side of the bridge, I see desire set free in him like some ray of mysterious light. Now tell me the truth, would you cross that bridge if you came to it? And where, if you made the grave choice to give up bread, would it take you?

Anne Carson, Kinds of Water

Some of the first photographs ever taken inside the Lascaux caves (France, 1947).

You're the muscle / I cut from the bone and still the bone / remembers, still it wants (so much it wants)

Ada Limón, In A Mexican Restaurant I Recall How Much You Upset Me

You never refuse. You simply don't speak.

Alicja Rybałko, A Prayer for the Forbidden Fruit tr. Regina Grol

A bird pecks at the corroded corner of the sky

Garous Abdolmalekian, Long Poem of Loneliness tr. Ahmed Nadalizadeh and Idra Novey