Latest Posts by shunrehihosumedha - Page 2

Please don't bother messaging me if you have p*rn all over your account 😐

permit me voyage, love, into your hands (James Agee) Pride & Prejudice (dir. Joe Wright) Anna Karenina (dir. Joe Wright) Memories of Murder (Bong Joon-ho) In the Mood for Love (Wong Kar-wai)

I loved you in ways you’ll never understand. In the way I remembered your favorite songs, even when you forgot mine. In the way I stayed. Long after you didn’t ask me to.

He does not know, that the world pauses for him, breath held,

Watching the art of him falling, calling it beauty While he calls himself blank.

If only you knew, how spellbound I am for you, watching the chaos of you, turning into stillness,

Watching your sorrow as it knows how to make everything shine.

(Darjeeling’21)

When they hit you with “ No one can replace you ”

but Adeem Hashmi already said the truth “ Ek khilauna toot jaega .. nayaa mil jaega , mein nahi toh koi tujh ko dusra mil jaega ”

— Franz Kafka, The Castle | The Lovers of Valdaro

— virginia woolf , carlyle's house and other sketches (via letsbelonelytogetherr)

The town still haunts me, laced in lullabies, Where kin became the keepers of my fall. Their words were nettles dressed in silver light, Their love; a gilded cage like a funeral hall.

They laughed like witches dancing in the fire, While I, the ember, begged to turn to smoke. I breathed in brimstone dressed as blooming thyme, and woke each day beneath a phantom yoke.

The darkness kissed me soft, and made me kin. And though I flee, it lingers in my breath, that hallowed place, where all my wounds begin.

(Darjeeling’2021)

“She falls, not like rain, nor like the weeping of skies, But in pirouettes; each flake… A whispered secret spun from the breath of stars.

How happy she looks, gilded in sunlight, blushing at the glances of children, stretching herself across fields… Like she’s always belonged.

Yet in her mirror, she sees only glass.

Not the frost laced wonder, not the shimmer in her descent,

But an absence; a definite pale ache…”

Simone de Beauvoir, from a diary entry featured in Diary of a Philosophy Student

Am i the only one pissed about chat gpt creating ghibli images? Like, no doubt the filter looks okay and people are enjoying it but ghibli holds a really special place in my heart and it kind of makes me feel like this whole thing just diminishes the significance and pure essence that real Ghibli art holds.

Simone de Beauvoir, from a diary entry featured in Diary of a Philosophy Student

One day...I am going to wake up, look over and find you peacefully asleep beside me, I will admire how beautiful you are and I will draw you closer, showering you with tender kisses.

— natalie díaz, from “american arithmetic”, postcolonial love poem (via letsbelonelytogetherr)

Martha Gellhorn, from a letter to David Gurewitsch featured in The Selected Letters of Martha Gellhorn

Nikos Kazantzakis, from a letter featured in The Selected Letters of Nikos Kazantzakis

Fyodor Dostoevsky, from a letter featured in Letters of Fyodor Michailovitch Dostoevsky to his Family & Friends

Dunya Mikhail, from "The Iraqi Nights", The Iraqi Nights (trans. Kareem James Abu-Zeid) [ID'd]

Water Lilies painted by Claude Monet (1840 - 1926)

Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry written c. April 1929, featured in Selected Diaries

musings on april

Sylvia Plath (Leon Dabo), Edna St. Vincent Millay, E. E. Cummings, Naguib Mahfouz (Edgar Degas), E. E. Cummings (Édouard Manet), Rabindranath Tagore, T. S. Eliot (Edgar Degas), F. Scott Fitzgerald (Alphonse Osbert)

“You are the moon to me because…”

Every time I look up at you or at the moon, a bittersweet symphony of envy and love washes over me, as if the silver orb is a distant lover, casting its ethereal glow upon my heart. It hangs there, a celestial muse, draped in a veil of mystery, illuminating the sky with a brilliance that feels both inviting and unattainable. I find myself lost by its serene beauty, longing to touch its surface, to share whispered secrets with the stars that shimmers around it. Yet, in that longing, a pang of envy stirs within me, for the moon is adored by all who look up, while I remain a mere observer, tethered to the earth. I am both enchanted and tormented, caught in the delicate balance between admiration and desire, knowing that while the moon will always shine brightly above, my heart will forever yearn for its light.

“Hoping for a glimpse of the warmth we once shared…”

Because in the quiet corners of my mind, shades of blue line these walls, each hue a whisper of memories I cannot bear.

They peel themselves from the starless sky, slipping into my bed on nights when sobriety is a fickle friend, and the days offer little solace, each amber light a reminder of you.

But every golden ray falls short, just shy of three PM, when I find myself in a crowded bar, lost among laughter that feels like a distant echo.

There you are, woven into the fabric of strangers' laughs, your essence lingering in a song I've skipped four times on this lonely drive to nowhere.

We exist in that second booth by the window, in the fleeting joy of a good day spent with faces that are not yours.

Even your absence brings the ghost of you to the party, especially your absence— it makes our gathering all the more vital, as if to defy the void you left behind.

Yet within these painted blue walls, darkness reigns supreme, and no light can alter this melancholy hue.

I am forever haunted by your specter, a bittersweet reminder that love lingers long after it has faded.