isntitoodreamy

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flower studies of enamel, silver gilt, jade, diamond, and rock crystal, house of fabergé, russia c. 1885-1915.

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transparent version of this post

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Women in Film Challenge 2022: [36/52] Blood Tea and Red String, dir. Christiane Cegavske (USA, 2006)

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What I Learned from My Mother

by Julia Kasdorf

I learned from my mother how to love the living, to have plenty of vases on hand in case you have to rush to the hospital with peonies cut from the lawn, black ants still stuck to the buds. I learned to save jars large enough to hold fruit salad for a whole grieving household, to cube home-canned pears and peaches, to slice through maroon grape skins and flick out the sexual seeds with a knife point. I learned to attend viewings even if I didn’t know the deceased, to press the moist hands of the living, to look in their eyes and offer sympathy, as though I understood loss even then. I learned that whatever we say means nothing, what anyone will remember is that we came. I learned to believe I had the power to ease awful pains materially like an angel. Like a doctor, I learned to create from another’s suffering my own usefulness, and once you know how to do this, you can never refuse. To every house you enter, you must offer healing: a chocolate cake you baked yourself, the blessing of your voice, your chaste touch.

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Satin Gloss. The small fruit culturist. 1881.

Internet Archive

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Black crow, red mouth. Bairei hyakucho gafu. Vol 3. 1881. 

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The corrupted heart. Chalk lessons. 1896. 

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Illustration from a Victorian book on magic, 1897

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Rosario Castellanos, "Entrevista de prensa"

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Recipe for Happiness

by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

One grand boulevard with trees with one grand cafe in sun with strong black coffee in very small cups.

One not necessarily very beautiful man or woman who loves you.

One fine day.

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Owl and Sakura by Narazaki Eisho (1930)

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Crows by Takahashi Hiroaki (1930′s)

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Stream and Forest, circa 1900

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real goth shit

[isntitoodreamy]

9 de febrero

Nadie me había hecho querer volver tan pronto a mi centro como vos. Si hay algo destacable en estos momentos, es eso.

Corazonadas, corridas. Moverme por estaciones desconocidas.

Sola. Me acompañaste una única vez y ese fue el comienzo.

Recorrer túneles, tragar miradas y llenarme de amor y dolor al mismo tiempo. Así lo recuerdo.

No aguante la angustia y llore enfrente de mi papá como cuando era chica y me decía que no lo haga.

Las lágrimas fueron pesadas, densas. Atajadas por la taza a medio tomar de café. En caída libre. Cómo lo nuestro.

Volvería a hacerlo, quizás. Eso es algo que todavía me preguntó, no paso ni una semana.

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it be like that...