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just started picking daisies on sundays by liana cincotti today and i've already started making my pinterest board

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5 May, 1937 Letters to Véra by Vladimir Nabokov

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The Wind Rises (2013) Kiki's Delivery Service (1989) Porco Rosso (1992) My Neighbor Totoro (1988) Whisper of the Heart (1995)

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pictures that make me love people a whole lot

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During a lecture on epic poetry like the Mahābhārata and Iliad in my first year of college, my professor said, “When the whole world dies, even when brick and mortar is destroyed, memory survives. It survives and lives on in generations to come. And literature carries that memory. All your geography, your economics, your psychology, they’re all based on the memory of man, passed down generations after generations. These epic poems and literature we are studying right now is to remind us that we too will be memories one day. And therefore, let us be good memories,” and I think a piece of this lecture will live on in me wherever I go.

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“ and when time and destiny will be aligned, my love, you will find him, the one who will get your jokes before you even complete them, and take care of the people important to you, and make your heart smile a thousand times,

who will remember all the silly details and theories you come up with and share with you your silences, and look for you first in every room. Who would be lost in your eyes forever. who will bring you flowers which remind him of you and fill your life with all moments worthwhile.”

- postcards without an address

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readings: essays & articles

reassuring ghosts and haunted houses

fish recorded singing dawn chorus on reefs just like birds

what people around the world dream about

poet and philosopher david whyte on anger, forgiveness, and what maturity really means

oranges are orange, salmon are salmon

how memories persist where bodies and even brains do not

the avant-garde musical legacy of the moomins

the weight of our living: on hope, fire escapes, and visible desperation

disturbed minds and disruptive bodies

what is better ー a happy life or a meaningful one?

after my dad died, i started sending him emails. months later, someone wrote me back

on the igbo art of storytelling

what the caves are trying to tell us

promethean beasts — how animal uses of fire help illuminate human pyrocognition

the art of loving and losing female friends

on memorizing poetry

the ecological imagination of hayao miyazaki

reading in the age of constant distraction

holly warburton illustrates tender moments of love and light

romancing the fig: what one fruit can tell us about love, life and human civilization

mystery and birds: 5 ways to practice poetry

can a plant remember? this one seems to — here's the evidence

why female cannibals frighten and fascinate

when you give a tree an email adress

fear not — horror movies build community and emotional resilience

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just started picking daisies on sundays by liana cincotti today and i've already started making my pinterest board

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German hunting knife, 19th century

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far from perfect but my soul is pure

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German hunting knife, 19th century

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— Marina Tsvetaeva, from “The Complete Poems.”

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" And life will find you right back, in acts of laughter and playing with little kids. And in the secret affairs with the summer air and lakesides. Life will roll out of your chest like a bird soaring in the sky, sure of itself. In the sleep deprived yet shining eyes and hands full of paint. Life will make it up to you. "

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“ I look at the garden of my home, with hues of green, the sunlight dancing on the leaves, the serene motia always hanging from above, washing the whole garden with the smell of peaceI look at the flowers vibrant with colors of the season and then i think of my baba,

My baba who didnt have any garden in his childhood home

Who never lived a life with roses on his path yet like the best of gardeners he pruned the toughness of life out, weeding out all the thorns, and collected wildflowers and roses for us

I think of poems and the lilac blue sky and candle wax in quiet rooms when i look at my garden

but my baba didn’t get to read much poetry, he was busy staying late in the darkness of the night and working by the crack of the dawn. He instead turned all that blood and sweat and the years of hard work into poetry for us

I look at the garden and something inside me shakes like a child and i just….”

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" There are times in our lives where we get so lost we barely recognize our face in the mirror. Where all our thoughts seem to be running in circles and the noises in our head get too loud.

I hope when we are in those places we are able to muster courage and keep our head straight "

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“may your knitted sweater reach past your wrists and envelop you in warmth. may you instill silence in your life. may the journeys be astounding and may coming home always bring peace to your heart. may a beautiful shawl be draped around your shoulders as you watch the pink sunset from your veranda, holding warm tea. may soft grass grow wherever you step. may you fall in love with life.”

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