“For I am I: ergo, the truth of myself; my own sphinx, conflict, chaos, vortex—asymmetric to all rhythms, oblique to all paths. I am the prism between black and white: mine own unison in duality.”
i think there’s divinity in gross and ugly things. i think the radical love and acceptance of what is weird and nasty is angelic and i think there is something holy about indulging in the neglected/looked down on/outcast/unacceptable parts of this world. you should let yourself be weird
Joanne Harris // Cecelia Ahern // Illustration by Cecile Richard // Rupi Kaur // Margarita Karapanou // Miranda July // Taylor Swift // T. R. Hummer // Richard Siken // James Joyce
if we could read minds I still don’t think we’d understand them.
like I’ve spoken to people who think in images, who have to translate each thought into words before they communicate. and I think entirely in words, laid out across the void inside my head. my father’s thinking is 3d, concepts structured in ways that are incredibly difficult to translate into words. and how would that look to me, if I could see into it? how do I perceive a thought that my mind cannot contain by the nature of their construction?
we all speak a private language to ourselves and we are always translating so we can speak to each other…don’t touch me I’m emotional
“i’m going to dream about
another city inside us where our past blows
between buildings
in scraps of old newspaper and we jump from rooftop
to rooftop
like clouds pretending
that anything could get in our way. you’re going to love yourself
and i’m going to love myself
and we will be the endlessness
of two mirrors
facing one another.”
