Lavender Morning By Chris Cozen

“ Apprehensible, yet invisible (that is, nothing), blue shares something with olfaction […] In about 1700, before Novalis and his blue flower, before Goethe and [Werther’s] blue-coat-yellow-vest, Bernard Perrot made a blue-glass scent bottle in the shape of a deeply moulded scallop shell. Its metal stopper is connected by a silvery chain. The back of the bottle is flat with a moulded design of a sun(flower). A paradox of blue: the bottle is both the shell from below, from the deep blue sea and as the sun from above in the clear blue sky […] a Janus head of sorts.” (Carol Mavor, “A Foggy Lullaby”, Blue Mythologies)

Bernard Perrot, Blue Glass Perfume Bottle, c. 1700, Orléans

― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[text ID: And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.]

Everyone forgets Icarus also flew

1. Jack Gilbert / 2. “The Fall of Icarus” by Merry-Joseph Blondel / 3. Lines attributed to Irish poet Oscar Wilde / 4. “The Fall of Icarus” by René Milot / 5. Charles Baudelaire / 6. “The Lament for Icarus” by Herbert James Draper / 7. Ilya Kaminsky / 8. “Icarus on the Rocks” by Vlaho Bukovac / 9. Nina Mouawad

I Will Tell this Story to the Sun Until You Remember that You are the Sun, Erin Slaughter

Melissa Febos, Abandon Me

by zeewipark

Hamda Al Fahim “Disco Daydreams” spring 2022 couture

“Yes, darling honey, I am a misery without you. So don’t, I beg, be foolish walking over mountains. If you break a leg, I break my heart, remember.”

— Virginia Woolf in a letter to Vita Sackville-West, 28 February 1927

“the morning blueness, chaste, not yet dried of its nighttime tears…”

— Yevgeny Zamyatin, We (trans. Natasha Randall)

Idk if u write, but what would u recommend to a young writer who’s not yet found her own ‘tone’ / voice or character in writing. What I mean is, I love writing… every time I read a certain author I then adopt their pen’s character, I write like them. If I read Plath I’ll go write like her bc I’m inspired. If I read Dostoevsky I’ll go write like him. Idk if it’s necessarily bad bc I think it’s pretty cool to achieve such voices (if they r achieved indeed) or should I just try to find mine? & How?

Hi anon, yes I write but only for myself. It's a sort of therapy for me, I'm definitely not a good writer. So maybe I'm not the right person to answer this question. Anyway, in your message you mentioned Plath and Dostoevsky, I think it's pretty normal to mistake the big impact that this artists can have on you and on your soul with your conviction that you are "copying" them. You already have your voice, it's the way you see the world, the way you perceive things, the way you talk in your head ― the language you speak to yourself everyday.

Sylvia Plath, from The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

she called herself "unimaginative". She tormented herself with this thoughts. It's just impossible to believe for us, but she was just like you, just like us.

Don't give up🤍