Original Composition. 2015. Based off Scene ‘sad eyes’ from film Ménilmontant.
“No one has imagined us. We want to live like trees,
sycamores blazing through the sulfuric air,
dappled with scars, still exuberantly budding,
our animal passion rooted in the city.”
― Adrienne Rich
“The first draft is always shit.”
Give me more.
Erigone in a Landscape,Hugues Taraval
That’s another thing wrong with you. You’re always trying to make the best of things. Do you realize what a pain in the ass that is? There are many things you just can’t make the best out of, and I’m one of them. I am not domesticable, I never was domesticable, and I’m never going to be domesticable, so just forget it. BEAT. I make you miserable; I’ve always made you miserable. I make everything that I touch dirty. I spoil everything. And you made me get involved when I didn’t want to be and now you’re paying for it.
(Tracy, Seascape with Sharks and Dancers)
“We are all broken—that’s how the light gets in.” Ernest Hemingway
Memories from years past: Two little girls running in a field. One fell down and broke her crown; the other came tumbling after.
I’ve tried to let it go;
But it still feels the same.
The hurt it has no face;
I can’t give it a name.
Push it all behind me;
I won’t let it pull me in.
The voices they may call you –
The words you breathe in.
coffee. cigarettes. books.
“I decided it is better to scream. Silence is the real crime against humanity.”
― Nadezhda Mandelstam
How I wish I could scream. I would yell at the top of my lungs about everything that upset me, about everything that ever brought me down. I’ve always been good at being silent—too good. I often sat curled up in my bed while I heard screams come from the downstairs kitchen, or my father’s study. Silence was my only comfort. I swore I would never sound like them; I never wanted to be like that. Years have gone by and I never broke that promise. I have never yelled, nor shown my anger towards anyone; in part, because I remember how much I hated hearing those I loved fight, but mainly, because I am so closed off to that side of myself. But there is a large part of me now that wishes I could feel and let that anger out. I know I can, but the fear of hurting someone somehow withholds me from ever saying exactly what is on my mind. I am too passive—something the rest of my generation must have missed out on. I’m learning now that sometimes, it is what we don’t say at all that hurts the ones we care about most.
Oh my love, make love to me
One more time, before you go away
Why can’t you stay?
Oh my love… come home to me
just for a while, I’ll leave this piece in you
Why can’t you stay
Don’t run away Don’t slip away my dear
Don’t run away Don’t slip away my dear (don’t ruin this heart of mine)
The sun is gone, it fell into the fall
but I don’t want it this way, why can’t you stay
Don’t run away Don’t slip away my dear
Don’t run away Don’t slip away my dear
There should be words, there should be words that explain the way
but I am tongue tied and twisted, where’s those words..
Don’t run away Don’t slip away my dear
Don’t run away Don’t slip away my dear
Autoplay next video
Don’t talk to me of love. I’ve had an earful
And I get tearful when I’ve downed a drink or two.
I’m one of your talking wounded.
I’m a hostage. I’m maroonded.
But I’m in Paris with you.
Yes I’m angry at the way I’ve been bamboozled
And resentful at the mess I’ve been through.
I admit I’m on the rebound
And I don’t care where are we bound.
I’m in Paris with you. […]
In Paris With You — James Fenton
And here came a heat wave
A merciful save
And you choose, you chose
Poetry over prose
A map is more unreal than where you’ve been
Or how you feel
And it’s impossible to tell
How important someone was
And what you might have missed out on
And how he might have changed it all
And how you might have changed it all for him
Feist || Intuition
![Now you, my intellectual leprechaun,
would have me swallow the entire sun
like an enormous oyster, down
the ocean in one gulp: you say a mark
of comet hara-kiri through the dark
should inflame the sleeping town.
[Love is a Parallax, Sylvia Plath]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/31489700f3ec7f4345f53a2cec0d8aad/tumblr_nvr7r7oxLL1srnm1lo1_250.jpg)
Now you, my intellectual leprechaun,
would have me swallow the entire sun
like an enormous oyster, down
the ocean in one gulp: you say a mark
of comet hara-kiri through the dark
should inflame the sleeping town.
[Love is a Parallax, Sylvia Plath]
Loneliness and Community found on Brooklyn Bridge.