If You've Never Engaged With A Creative Art On A Regular Basis You Need To Understand That It Requires

Life finds a way, even in the cracks of concrete.

Find the poets, my friend said. They will not speak of the things you and I speak about. They will not speak of economic integration or fiscal consolidation.

They could not tell you anything about the burden of adjustment.

But they could sit you down and tell you how poems are born in silence and sometimes, in moments of great noise, of how they arrive like the rain, unexpectedly cracking open the sky.

They will talk of love, of course, as if it were the only thing that mattered, about chestnut trees and mountain tops, and how much they miss their dead fathers.

They will talk as they have been talking for centuries, about holding the throat of life, till all the sunsets and lies are choked out, till only the bones of truth remain.

The poets, my friend, are where they have always been— living in paper houses without countries, along rivers and in forests that are disappearing.

And while you and I go on with life remembering and forgetting,

the poets remain: singing, singing.

-Tishani Doshi

“Today is a wonderful day, an avalanche of light and I would like to stand with you in this rain of sunshine, to flow together, to melt into it… in mornings like this, life roars within me.”

—

Albert Camus to Maria Casarès, Correspondance, January 13, 1950 [#128]

(via acknowledgetheabsurd)

Lastly, happy valentine's day to the planet that crashed into the earth billions of years ago to give us our moon <3

The heart is the only type of muscle with zero fuel reserves. It is totally dependent on its fuel supply. Cut its fuel supply off and it won't last long, but it will beat tirelessly and relentlessly as long as it has fuel. It makes me wonder if we are we really that naive to think that love will be eternal when we don't  take care of it, when we do not nurture it or feed it? And yet we expect love to go on till the end like some super marathon runner who can go on and on, and not refuel at all during the race? Is it really surprising when love collapses at some point of the way? Love lives in a human heart, a delicate one at that, a very mortal and needing heart. 

e.v.e.

happy new year’s eve <3

The Soul of the Rose (or My Sweet Rose) by John William Waterhouse // “Till There Was You” covered by The Beatles

can someone please be proud of me like fuck I’m trying