Latest Posts by rinto-mariam - Page 3

Topaz Winters, from "Cherry Blossoms"

Walter Crane: The Swans Maidens (1894)

"Nature Morte.", Joseph Brodsky (tr George L. Kline)

MAX VADUKUL | IRIS PALMER | CAPITAL | CO-ORDINATED BY EDWARD ENNINFUL AND MATT JONES | i-D NO. 157 THE CAPITAL ISSUE | OCTOBER 1996 | STRIP-PROJECT | AUGUST 2020

PETER LINDBERGH | AMANDA JOHNSON | ALEXANDER MCQUEEN | NUMERO | PARIS | 2003 | STRIP-PROJECT | SEPTEMBER 2021

John Waterhouse

Bianca Stone, from What Is Otherwise Infinite: Poems; “Other Wound”

You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love.

— Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

“Don’t let my silence wound you. I'm just tired of words.”

— Manuel Bandeira, from “This Earth, That Sky.”

What it feels like to be in love with someone??

“You are killing me, and you are keeping me from dying. That is love.”

— Mahmoud Darwish.

when hozier said “i’m so full of love i could barely eat” and “my baby’s sweet as can be she gives me toothaches just from kissing me” and “when my time comes around lay me gently in the cold dark earth, no grave can hold my body down i'll crawl home to her” all in the same song

LA BELLE ET LA BÊTE (1946) dir. Jean Cocteau PANNA A NETVOR (1978) dir. Juraj Herz

“Come love, make me better than I was. Come teach me a kinder way to say my own name.”

- Andrea Gibson, from "Good Light," Lord of the Butterflies

Ana Mendieta: Creek (1974)

― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[text ID: I need a father. I need a mother. I need some older, wiser being to cry to. I talk to God, but the sky is empty.]

[ID: A page of a play. It reads as follows, "Theseus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. / Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. / Theseus: Stain them, I don't care." End text.]

Herakles - Euripides (Tr. Anne Carson)

Rainer Maria Rilke, Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God [originally published 1905]

December 16, 1930 The early diary of Anaïs Nin, 1903-1977

do you guys think jesus, the son of a carpenter, smelt the wood of the cross & temporarily thought of home

Dante’s Inferno (1967) | dir. Ken Russell

why is religious Christmas imagery all so joyful and pleasant? where is the inherent horror of the birth of Christ? A mother is handed her newborn child, wailing and innocent. Her hands come away sticky. Red. Simply by giving her son life she has already killed him. He is doomed from the beginning. Her love will not save him from suffering. Because the thing cradled in her arms is not a baby, it is a sacrifice: born amongst the other bleating animals whose blood will one day be spilled in the name of what demands it. the night is silent with anticipation. Mary, did you know? That your womb was also a grave?

Mary Oliver, from "Of Love", Red Bird

Rebecca Ross, Divine Rivals

Kaveh Akbar, from “Personal Inventory: Fearless (Temporis Fila)”, Calling a Wolf a Wolf 

Judith Eglington: Sans Titre (1975)

{Words by Anaïs Nin, from The Diary Of Anais Nin, Vol. 4 (1944-1947) / Cynthia Cruz from diagnosis,The glimmering room}