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The weight of memory drags my shoulders down. I take a string and stack everyone I've ever known and loved like beads, pearl on pearl on pearl. And when they leave- because leaving is one certainty we're burdened with, and when they leave- I clutch the pearls and try to breathe. I remember it all, even things I've forgotten. Some nights, I dream of smiles and faces and laughs, my best friend at 7, the first boy I ever liked, my grandma on the patio- pearls on pearls on pearls, boxes full of necklaces stacked in every corner of my heart. The weight of the world on my shoulders- is that what is left of us in the end, memories stuffed in pearls, waiting to be worn?

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from the The Flesh I Burned

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by luketyreephoto

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𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑑

By Bao Tran Trung

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鬼太鼓(休眠中)さんのページ

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by fredrik_stroemme

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By Jason Ting

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Trees which have been struck by lightning

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Issey Miyake Store Interior (1999)

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why do you charge money for your art

big fan of eating

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Kunié Sugiura

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