Latest Posts by tiniesthand - Page 2

THE FULL QUOTE IS 500X WORSE I WANT TO DIE

‘My happy place is you teaching me how to dance in the kitchen at two in the morning.'  — Lidia Longorio 

1.joy harjo / 2,6,8,12.norwegian wood / 3.camille a. balla / 4.sansnovazuhause / 5.e.a. bucchianeri / 7.tennessee williams / 9.jenny slate / 10.milknhoneyvalley / 11.banana yoshimoto / 13.kenneth mahuka

Mary Szybist, from Incarnadine: Poems // Frédéric Soulacroix, Still life with Fruit and Table Wear (1) // Mary Karr, Cherry // Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar // Mahmoud Darwish, from In the Presence of Absence, trans. Sinan Antoon (Archipelago, 2011) // Steven Chung // Frédéric Soulacroix, Still life with Fruit and Table Wear (2) // Ieva Dapkevicius, Summer Preserves // Frédéric Soulacroix, Still life with Fruit and Table Wear (3)

𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚊 𝚃𝚜𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚎𝚟𝚊, 𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚎𝚖𝚜 (𝟷𝟾𝟿𝟸-𝟷𝟿𝟺𝟷)

“i just like my alone time” i say as if loneliness hasn’t been all i’ve known since childhood

― Ada Limón, Sharks in the Rivers

[text ID: … dearest, can you / tell, I am trying / to love you less.]

Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anaïs Nin (Vol. 1: 1931-1934)

Sad eyes.

Based in a scene of "On the beach at night alone" (Bamui haebyun-eoseo honja) directed by Hong Sang-soo.

to be so lonely (xx xx xx)

girlies what do y'all do when you're crushing on someone

Yrsa Daley-Ward, from bone; “waiting for the check to clear”

Late July seems like a fantasy land now.

thinking about “the five stages of grief” by linda pastan and “miss you. would like to take a walk with you.” by gabrielle calvocoressi

Cathedral of moss

All About Love, bell hooks | Snow and Dirty Rain, Richard Siken

Yi Lei, Mother

I'm as free as the breeze and I ride where I please

“My world was warm with April sun my thoughts were spangled green and gold; my soul filled up with joy, yet felt the sharp, sweet pain that only joy can hold.”

— fr. “I Thought That I Could Not Be Hurt”, Sylvia Plath (via nomorechoirs)

affection🖤• Henri De Toulouse-Lautrec • Marc Chagall • Milt Kobayashi • Malcolm T. Liepke • Egon Schiele • Nickie Zimov • Joseph Lorusso • Peter Wever • Gustav Klimt • Rocio Montoya •

I was filled with a warm, intense longing for spring. [...] Yes, I thought, that's how it should be. Why shouldn't one feel an immense, tender ecstasy of love for the spring, or for all humanity?

Etty Hillesum, from a diary entry featured in An Interrupted Life: the Diaries, 1941-1943 and Letters from Westerbork (translated from the Dutch by Arnold J. Pomerans)

i need these in my closet asap. (part two)

https://evelionheart.medium.com/on-the-intimacy-of-the-mundane-863f9efb3c39

—Li Bai, Question and Answer on the Mountain, tr. by Keith Holyoak

— Tennessee Williams, Notebooks

I crave warmth everywhere. In the morning sun or in sunsets or in music, art, places, just warm energy. When people recommend you songs or movies or tell you how much you mean to them, when people say I love you out of the blue, or a smile from random strangers, people going on walks with you or a picnic date with friends, when somebody talks about the person they love or the times when you are laughing uncontrollably with a group of people you love, I crave that warmth.

yo bro, who got you smiling like that?

me:

-Aaron Blackford

“The days are becoming long, and in the evening I sit in the kitchen reading without a light. On the windowsill is a jug with a flowering branch of lilac, which I cut in a friend’s garden. It is pale purple, the color of a much-washed ultramarine blue shirt […] On the window embrasure, close to the windowpanes, hangs a shaving mirror. As I look up now, I see reflected in the mirror a sprig of the lilac branch: each petal of each tiny flower is vivid, distinct, near, so near that the petals look like the pores of a skin. At first I do not understand why what I see in the mirror is so much more intense than the rest of the branch which, in fact, is nearer to me. Then I realize that what I am looking at in the mirror is the far side of the lilac, the side fully lit by the last light of the sun.

Every evening my love for you is placed like that mirror.”

— John Berger, And Our Faces, My Heart, Brief as Photos

Arundhati Roy, The End of Imagination