“You Read Something Which You Thought Only Happened To You, And You Discover That It Happened 100 Years

LIFE HAS NOT FORGOTTEN YOU IT HOLDS YOU IN ITS HANDS LIFE HAS NOT FORGOTTEN YOU IT HOLDS YOU IN ITS HANDS LIFE HAS NOT FORGOTTEN YOU IT HOLDS YOU IN ITS HANDS LIFE HAS NOT FORGOTTEN YOU IT HOLDS YOU IN ITS HANDS LIFE HAS NOT FORGOTTEN YOU IT HOLDS YOU IN ITS HANDS LIFE HAS NOT FORGOTTEN YOU IT HOLDS YOU IN ITS HANDS LIFE HAS NOT FORGOTTEN YOU IT HOLDS YOU IN ITS HANDS LIFE HAS NOT FORGOTTEN YOU IT HOLDS YOU IN ITS HANDS

1. A Game of Thrones - George R. R. Martin / 2. The Lovers - Akseli Gallen-Kallela / 3. The Ballad of Reading Gaol - Oscar Wilde / 4. Deathless - Catherynne M. Valente

New Years Resolution?

five recipes for an exciting life (in my opinion)

spending enough time creating things with your hands (baking, drawing, scrapbooking, doodling, crocheting, journaling and so on)

keeping track of things like pretty skies, milestones, happy memories, appointments you're looking forward to

listening to music that genuinely makes you feel happy and energetic

making a habit of reaching out to people in a way that's comfortable to you (i send my dad songs he might like, my friend sends me monthly life updates)

being kind to all your five senses → like investing in a scented candle or essential oil dispenser or body mist, having a soft blanket or socks (or a soft animal to pet), listening to birdsong or the rain, looking at the sky more often, and having your favorite foods enough times

Sometimes those scenes would go on and on and on and you’d be like…are they going to call cut? Cause this is going on forever.

There are manmade joys beyond my comprehension, too. The horrors aren’t special.

The Zen of La Llorona

by Deborah Miranda

La Llorona rises over my town– a solitary curve, sharpened by someone else’s fury. I read a small gray Zen book Everyone loses everything. Lovers, families, friends, possessions, egos– we keep nothing of this world, not even our bodies. It’s as if you’d lost your favorite teacup, you see. No amount of searching, weeping or wailing will bring it back. If you want a drink, use a different container. Write a long series of passionate poems about your cup. Hell, write a whole book. Obsession is the mother of creation. But as you compose, sip from the new mug. It will become your mug of choice. You’ll lose that one, too. And so on. In theory, anyway, we outlast dispossession: Ceramic mugs, hearts, continents. Outside, La Llorona’s knife slices the indigo heart of silence. Nonsense, she howls. There’s always something left to lose.

Morning after a Stormy Night, created in 1819

by Johan Christian Claussen Dahl

from abell 2218 by eric gamalinda, published in amigo warfare: poems

[Text ID: I use my body to find love. I eat all the wrong foods. I believe what I see with my own two eyes. Fear eats me. I have to look for a job. I can sprint faster than sound. I burn forever, I have no end. /End ID]