My love, The moment has come to send you a farewell tasting of earth (dry leaves, something far away and disused). I wanted to do this with lines that don’t reach the margins—often called poems—but I have failed. There are so many intimate things for your ears only that words cannot express, only the shy algorithms that amuse my breaking wave. The noble trade of poet is not for me. It isn’t that I don’t have sweet things to say. If you only knew what is contained there in a whirl inside me. But the shell that contains them is too long, convoluted and narrow. They emerge, exhausted from the journey, and in a bad mood, elusive; the sweetest ones are the most fragile and are left behind, shattered, disparate vibrations… I’m a useless medium. I would disintegrate trying to convey everything at once. Let’s use everyday words to capture the moment. […] That is how I love you, remembering the bitter coffee every morning, the taste of the dimple in your knee, the ash of a cigar delicately balanced, the incoherent grumbling with which you defend your impregnable pillow.[…] That is how I love you, watching the children grow, like a staircase with no history (and I suffer because I can’t witness those steps). Every day, it’s like a stabbing in my side, upbraiding the idler from its shell. This will be a real farewell. Five years in the mire have aged me. Now there remains only one last step—the definitive one. The siren songs have ended, and so has my inner conflict. Now the flag is raised for my last race. The speed will be such that screams will accompany me. The past has come to an end; I am the future in progress. Don’t call me, because I won’t be able to hear you. But I will sense you on sunny days, under the renewed caress of bullets. […] I will keep a look out for you, in the way a dog remains alert while it’s resting, and I will imagine every part of you, piece by piece, and altogether.If one day you feel the force of an overbearing presence, don’t turn around, don’t break the spell, just keep on preparing my coffee, and let me experience you in that instant, for al
OSPAAAL poster, Cuba, 1969
Via Soviet Visuals
it’s really hard to describe what un homme et une femme from stephan sinding means to me but just know it’s a lot
✨them✨
Midwest America, September 2020, the year the world burned (pt. 2)
An indigenous Peruvian woman with her child in the Andes mountains (1930s-1940s) via r/TheWayWeWere by @froggysaysno
Lowrider Couple, 1980
Joe B. Ramos
Vintage photo of Lady Bunny, Wili Ninja, Elvira, Björk, Lady Miss Kier, and Deee-Lite
Spain in transition, 1976-1980, photographed by Manel Armengol (via Flickr)
Sultanahmet meydanı. İstanbul 1995