Trying to conjure up the childhood through this vessel I now am - girl growing up in a world that wants to close her in-being aware of ghosts and aliens and the floorboards and hidden attics and the sound of a ball bouncing off tarmac pavement and a slave to television and darkness and learning about death and building moss gardens underneath the hedges and watching your mum hang up washing and watching your dad smash the dining chair to pieces and seeing mud fly off the back of your brothers bike tyres and suppressing all tears and now the internet

"I must see new things and investigate them. I want to taste dark water and see crackling trees and wild winds. I want to gaze with astonishment… I want to experience them all…"
Egon Schiele, “Letter to Anton Peschka,” 1910
(via thequotejournals)
"we look at each other,
we exchange dark words,
we love each other like poppy and recollection,
we sleep like wine in the conches,
like the sea in the moon’s blood ray."
Paul Celan, from Corona, trans. Michael Hamburger
(via nemophilies)
"Lovely-eyed. Death-touched. Witch."
Odysseus Elytis, tr. by Olga Broumas & T. Begley, from “The Dream,
(via violentwavesofemotion)
un-gif-dans-ta-gueule:
“Barton Fink - Ethan & Joel Coen
”
dischord:
“Instrument film still. Jem Cohen.
”
"I could see him born of the swamps, the nightmare, the lunar foliage he loved to paint, the overgrown, mossy, secret caves. I could see him part of the bird world, predatory worlds."
Anaïs Nin on Max Ernst, from The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 3: 1939-1944
(via secretsyrenica)

i want to drink in the night like a black wine

november is blue

luminous

nemfrog:
““We are surrounded on all sides by the stars.” An introduction to astronomy. 1868.
”

violentwavesofemotion:

“Tonight the landscape is fired by moonlight and I am thinking of you somehow.”

Anne Sexton, from a letter to Dennis Farrell, c. December 1961

nemfrog:
“Dragonflies.  Nature–by seaside and wayside. 1936. Back cover.
”

violentwavesofemotion:

“She was conscious of an inexpressible tenderness in her heart,”

Anton Chekhov, from The Complete Works of Anton Chekhov; “The Two Volodyas,”

tosfumarewords:

“A far sea moves in my ear.”

Sylvia Plath, from Ariel; “Morning Son”