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Laetitia Pujol, Mathieu Ganio

Le chant de la terre

photo: Ann Ray

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— Carol Rifka Brunt in Tell The Wolves I'm Home

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one day you think: I want to die. and then you think, very quietly: actually. actually. I think I want a coffee. a nap. a sandwich. a book. and I want to die turns day by day into want to go home, I want to walk in the woods, I want to see my friend, I want to sit in the sun, I want a cleaner kitchen, I want a better job, I want to live somewhere else. I want to live.

- via duckbunny

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ink stained pages of those who know. Embers of letters continue to grow. A soft and sweet and kind hello. Written with care in the dark below. And when these feelings hit me like a blow, as least there’s something to show for all my woe. Passages and lyrics all with prose, slowly starting to overflow. Poems come to me like polar snow, covering everything and everyone and all those who know.

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an aromantic person is someone who (fill in the blank here) // april 10 2024

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“Run upstairs! There you will be healed, there you will be fed full of sumptuous happiness, and once you’re satiated, you will slumber evenly and snore to an organized beat—can you not hear this great symphony of snores? You funny ciphers: they want to liberate you of the torturously gnawing question marks that wriggle like worms … But you’re standing here and listening to me instead. Go quickly upstairs—to the Great Operation! What does it matter to you that I stay here alone? What does it matter to you if I don’t want them to want things for me—if I want to want things for myself—if I want the impossible…?”

— Yevgeny Zamyatin, We (trans. Natasha Randall)

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escapril day 13: purr

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The tender, unearthly magic of the Spring has crept into my heart. I hear the song of birds, I smell new odors, see new colorings, and the softness of the air melts me. And I feel. Oh, God, how deeply I feel, and grieve and rejoice. More than ever in my life before, more than all I felt during childhood, and that was a great deal, more than all I felt during girlhood, which I thought nothing could surpass; I stand on the threshold of the world itself, and a new life has taken hold of me.

Anaïs Nin, The Early Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1920-23

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Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anaïs Nin vol. I: 1931-1934

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i believe you can always get back to yourself. you can always soften into being again. no matter how long you might be stuck in a pattern of unhappiness, of being jaded, of feeling guarded from the world in some way. there is always a path back. give yourself a chance to find it.

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Ankita Saxena, on her translation of Fahmida Riaz's poem "A Woman Is Laughing", pub. Modern Poetry in Translation [ID'd]

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but actually I was just thinking about how every single relationship we form with another person is inherently special no one will ever know you in the exact same way as another person who knows you. and in that way I think we live countless lives in the perception of others.

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fear. fear is the relinquishment of logic, the willing relinquishing of reasonable patterns. but so, it seems, is love. love is the relinquishment of logic, the willing relinquishing of reasonable patters. we yield to it or we fight it. but we cannot meet it halfway. without it, we cannot continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality. hill house, not sane, stands against its hills holding darkness within. it has stood so for a hundred years and might stand a hundred more. within, walls continue upright, bricks meet neatly, floors are firm, and doors are sensibly shut. silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of hill house. and those who walk there, walk together.

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Today I Asked My Body What She Needed

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Byung-Chul Han, from an interview published in ArtReview

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The point is to laugh into a kiss, to laugh at yourself, to laugh w the world but not at it, to share your dreams w people who listen to them, to realize when you’re wrong, to apologize even if it’s years later, to eat the bread that comes w dinner, to dive into the sea even when the water is cold, to forgive yourself but not be blind to your self, to remember your friends birthdays, to look for luck everywhere, to be sentimental and unashamed of it, to admit when you don’t know, to hold a shell to your ear and listen for the ocean, to hold your own hand and not shy away from someone else’s, to stop and smell the roses and the night blooming jasmine and the freesia, to live outside your head, to know how to cook for when you’re joyous and heartbroken and ravenous and lazy, to not crush the spider but help it outside, to always rediscover who you are and allow room for others to do the same, to watch the sunrise, to keep flowers in your house, to not let hopelessness poison you

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The World’s Loneliest Whale Sings the Loudest Song by Noor Hindi