It was happy, it was sad. There were sentences and silences mixed. They called...– Jacques Brault (via apathie)
Sometimes I muse about how wonderful it would be if I could string all my dreams...– Fernando Pessoa (The Book of disquiet)
"The New Mecca"
honeytar: Stay open, forever, so open it hurts, and then open up some more, until the day you die, world without end, amen. —George Saunders
Toska Russian – Vladmir Nabokov describes it best: “No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases it...
Russian Caravan Tea
Don’t know why but I’m feeling so sad said the walkman. We had dangled its tiny earpiece over the mouth of a plastic champagne flute this was our stereo the stillness of the wooden caravan. I long to try something I’ve never had, Billie Holiday was singing and we could hear her well enough under the silent stars. * Once you had died and we had done those things - visited the...
dryheave: Martynka Wawrzyniak, Chocolate, 2010