December 2011
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All photographs are memento mori. To take a photograph is to participate in...
– Susan Sontag (via wearebarebones)
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acoldcove:
as the chaos sleeps hollow, a coruscating wind and an emerald breeze meet, at the corner, to discuss the fate of a dozen cold coverns
I think a lot, but I don’t say much.
– Anne Frank (via kaffeochblod)
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our bones ache only while the flesh is on them.
– Djuna Barnes, Nightwood (via beryl-azure)
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And what of the dead? They lie without shoes
in the stone boats. They are more...
– Anne Sexton
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It is, alas, chiefly the evil emotions that are able to leave their photographs...
– Algernon Blackwood
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mizenscen:
“Moths” (excerpt) by Jennifer O’Grady
… You leave, and the night becomes cluttered with moths, some tattered, their dumbly curious filaments startling against my cheek. How quickly, instinctively, I brush them away. Dazed, they cling to the outer darkness like pale reminders of ourselves. Others seem to want so desperately to get inside. Months later, I’ll find the woolens, snug in...
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lethelungs:
Phosphenes /fos-feen/ n. the luminous stars and colors you see when you rub your eyes.
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