Humans are divided into different clans and tribes, and belong to countries and towns. But I find myself a stranger to all communities and belong to no settlement.
The universe is my country and the human family is my tribe.
—Khalil Gibran
Category: vanilla
London Fog
“Memory commits you to the nuance; the fog.
If you act on memory you commit yourself on the basis of echoes: unpredictable, faint, fading even as they were generated.
No basis on which to inch out across your life, and yet all you have.”
—M. John Harrison
To Myself
“… Sometimes I have kept my feelings to myself, because I could find no language to describe them in …”
Jane Austen
The Three Sisters
Sga:d hëdwa:yë:’ ögwa’nigöë’
We gather our minds together to send greetings and thanks to the world around us. Now our minds are one.
dëyetinönyö:’
We give our thanks to
Jöhehgöh
Our Life Sustainers we harvest from the garden.
Da:h ne’hoh dih nëyögwa’nigo’dë:ök
And so let it be that way in our minds.
—Portion of the Ganö:nyög (Thanksgiving Address/Greetings to the Natural World/Words that Come Before All Else) in Onöndowa’ga:’ Gawë:nö’
Boo
Boo, I think I no longer believe in monsters as faces in the floor or feral infants or vampires or whatever.
—David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest
Not A Sprint
Like wine through clay,
joy in his blood bursting his heart—the bliss!
Robert Browning, Pheidippides
It is my 26th birthday, today.
More pressing is that my exam, culmination of the last 3 months of my life, is next Friday.
I am therefore resolutely trying to ignore the fact that my birthday has arrived until then.
It has been a marathon, sans doute.
Neuvième
“Perhaps I have loved the artist because creation is the nearest we come to divinity.”
— Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Volume I (1931-1934)
Children and Birds
One must ask children and birds how cherries and strawberries taste.
—Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Cold Solstice
At cold solstice I cut
the night, take its long waist
to my quilted bed,
curl up the dark under
broideries of spring, to wait
a night spread out again for you.
—Hwang Jini, At Cold Solstice
