We walk on air, Watson. There is only the moon, embalmed in phosphorous. There is only a crow in a tree. Make notes. —
b2639609927alıntı yaptı3 yıl önce
She was always 100% prepared, had always thought about the material, and—as was typical with her—had a basic insecurity that she never quite understood all she needed to understand.
b2639609927alıntı yaptı3 yıl önce
She was very, very hard on us, my mother now notes. But you know how people are often merciless on those they love the most
b2639609927alıntı yaptı3 yıl önce
It feels different to mourn something without naming its name
Ivana Melgozaalıntı yaptı4 yıl önce
Above her, the sun is still trying to burn through the mist. Strange, she thinks, how the sun so often appears as a pale circle, not the orgy of unthinkable fire that it is.
Ivana Melgozaalıntı yaptı4 yıl önce
I go on and I don’t know whether I’m going into darkness or into light and joy,
Ivana Melgozaalıntı yaptı4 yıl önce
She was sad, happy, triumphant, subdued. And I think I, in a way, understood. Maybe that was it.
Ivana Melgozaalıntı yaptı4 yıl önce
Am I to live this life
with a blameless ferocity?
Then wait
for morning to bring
the bright sediment of things
into focus. It
comes clear.
Ivana Melgozaalıntı yaptı4 yıl önce
For a moment I thought time might stop, and we could live together forever under my sheets.