Clarice Lispector, A Breath Of Life

“We dug a heart out of a heart and our mutual pain molded us into lovers in the evening fires of autumn.”

— Jovan Kotevski, from Love and Death; The Fourth Letter; Reading the Ashes: An Anthology of the Poetry of Modern Macedonia (ed. by Milne Holton & Graham W. Reid)

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“I do exist, don’t I? It often feels as if I’m not here, that I’m a figment of my own imagination. There are days when I feel so lightly connected to the earth that the threads that tether me to the planet are gossamer thin, spun sugar. A strong gust of wind could dislodge me completely, and I’d lift off and blow away, like one of those seeds in a dandelion clock.”

— Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine (Gail Honeyman)

Stephanie Garber, Once Upon a Broken Heart

Laodamia, George William Joy 

“There’s a soft spot in everything Our fingers touch, the one place where everything breaks When we press it just right. The past is like that with its arduous edges and blind sides, The whorls of our fingerprints embedded along its walls Like fossils the sea has left behind.”

— Charles Wright, from “Two Stories,” The Other Side of the River (Random House, 1984)

unfolding into another spring

mahmood darwish, sylvia plath, v.e. schwab, ana mendieta

buy me a coffee

Teint de Nacre et Corps D’Ivoire, Yves Saint Laurent Beaute by Guy Bourdin

a warm cup of tea 🍵

self sabotage