Lily / 25Withour pistil soul-bright,our stamen heaven-waste,our corona redfrom the purpleword we sangover, O overthe thorn.
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Today I would like to share with you an excerpt from "Достоевский. Жизнь и творчество" (К. Мочульский, 1947) that describes the meeting of Pavel and Marya Kondratyevna in "The Brothers Karamazov" by Fyodor Dostoevsky, which was supposedly omitted from "Pro and Contra" because "it could affect the pacing" or so the book says. This has already been translated to English but it doesn't seem to be easily available online(or it is and I just don't know), so I decided to translate it to English myself for entertainment(educational) purposes. This scene adds some characterization to Smerdyakov and I hope it's an interesting read (although my English isn't perfect and this isn't a professional TL). TL note: Marya Kondratyevna used to be Marya Nikolaevna in the draft of the novel
"Fyodor Pavlovich's garden was separated by a fence from the neighbors garden... The owners of the house were a legless old widow of the petty bourgeois class, and her daughter... The old woman could still walk two years ago; she did some sort of work, visited people as a commission agent, sold goods for a percentage, but the longer she worked the less she earned. When her legs gave out, her 22-year-old daughter Marya Nikolaevna returned – she used to live in a provincial town, "in service" in a certain prosperous house. Even though she was only a maid, she carried herself like a lady, and owned two or three decent dresses. She had no practical skills, not even sewing… One mistake she made early on was that she took no notice of Smerdyakov, because of some prejudice, some distant foreboding or just for some reason, didn't consider him worthy of attention. And what happened next? It was something you couldn't possibly expect. Marya Nikolaevna, who adored noblemen and high-class society, came to like Smerdyakov's unyieldingness, specifically his cold tone and his complete dissimilarity to any "man" of the class to which Smerdyakov belonged. Smerdyakov, in turn, quite liked two of her dresses – one with a train, and the fact that she was able to shift the train. At first the train angered him greatly, but later he liked it very much. They both recognized higher people in each other. Although Marya Nikolaevna wasn't particularly pretty, she was tall and very thin, there were even some pockmarks on her face, just a few, but they still marred her. The kind Marfa Ignatievna considered her quite adorable. For a long time, Marya Nikolaevna had been urging Smerdyakov to visit them and make their acquaintance, and she spoke about it sweetly: to visit their refuge (meaning “their haven”), to visit their little corner or nest. Smerdyakov always mumbled something in answer, but at least he didn't complain. After all, she was inviting him with a smile and even forwardness. Smerdyakov wouldn't go. And after a while, she began inviting him without any boldness and with a begging expression on her face. –Why is it that you don't want to grace them with your presence, do you not have time for it or something, – noted Marfa Ignatievna at last, who in her heart was very pleased to see a meeting of two young people. Had Marfa Ignatievna only said something awkward, made some insinuation about, for instance, you're young people, and it's God's will for what's to happen, and she would have ruined everything. Never, ever and under no circumstances would Smerdyakov have come to visit the neighbors and he would have just stopped talking to them. But God swept the dark cloud away, and Smerdyakov went to visit; not on the next day, not on the third day, but on the fourth day. Of course, he considered that more elegant."
The original Russian text is found in "Достоевский. Жизнь и творчество" (К. Мочульский)
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The masterpiece Leon Morin Priest was ruined by Fleabag fans, there, I said it.
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Britain and Germany’s role in Israel-Palestine from the very beginning, so much of their lack of adequate handling has been defined very accurately by all of history and mediators and then they have the audacity to complain about protesters in their country that are concerned for the lives of Israelis and Palestinians and all those who lay in the Levant. The level of lack of self reflection often powerful countries maintain is astonishing. History and the past is always important and responsibility lies within it.
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Bedouins in Palestine. Anna Riwkin (1908-1970)
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This line. Mads, I'm gonna need you to be a worse actor for a second, ok bud? Because what. The look of betrayal on his face. The way his lip curls like a dog ready to bare its teeth. Lump in his throat. Swallowing back tears that were never supposed to see the light of someone elses eyes. Almost disgusted at himself for not only entertaining the idea of letting Will see inside of him, but actively giving him the looking glass and saying, "Here. This is me in all of my depravity."
He specifically says "I let you know me." He gave permission. Encouraged it. He wanted it. It's the human in him getting sedated. Put down. Bad dog or whatever.
This guy drives me insane because he knows what he is. Knows that what he does is "the most disgusting thing in the world" to others. But then some twitchy man is placed in his field of vision, and being the hawk he is, zeros in on him. For as smart as he is, as strategic and deadly, he still feels deeply. Maybe not in the same way Will does (obviously) but he still hopes. Still yearns. If he was devoted to a god he would've probably prayed about it to. But he didn't need a god. Didn't want one to confide in. He was fine on his own. Until Will.
I'm sure that he sees Will as some form of otherworldly light. Dark. Grey area. Whatever the vapid space between stars is called, he sees that in Will. That is Will.
Giving into human desires is beneath him. And yet he let his perfectly curated human suit be unraveled because he finally met the one person who could understand him. Finally met the person who he could hold a mirror to and see bits of himself in the reflection. And that mirror got shattered like a teacup. Seven years of bad luck or something.
Betrayal is an ache deep in your gut. Feels like your organs are being ripped out of you just like the rug beneath your feet. And you can only think about how foolish you were for wanting anything in the first place. Disappointment requires expectation and good lord was that man close to his own heaven on earth. An alter he would worship without prying eyes. A love that would shelter him. Cut him and hold pressure to the wound.
Jesus christ love is so fucking humiliating sometimes
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I just finished my fast for Tisha b'Av and I've seen a few posts going around trying to relate it to Gaza or whatever. Which is just, missing the point of it entirely. On Tisha b'Av we mourn the destruction of the temple, the centre of Jewish life in ancient Israel. To this day, the temple remains in ruins, and there's a mosque built on top of it.
Megillah Eicha tells of the anguish of the author as they watch their beloved Zion fall to ruin, their people slaughtered and expelled.
Tisha b'Av is not about Palestine. It is about Jews mourning their home, the land that has been colonised over and over, and yet people still want to deny them. Trying to make Tisha b'Av about Palestine is literally colonising a day for mourning the conquest and colonisation of Israel.
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Do you remember Katerina Ivanovna's aquarium? It's useless information. Some of you may have forgotten. I never did. Do you think she liked looking at the little colourful fish? Does she like fish? Is it a gift she doesn't care about? We'll never know for sure but at least she has an aquarium.
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Remedios Varo - The Apothecary (”Portrait of Apothecary, Inventor of Cardboard”). 1962
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Love of my life. I mostly bought it for these illustrations I think they capture her physical description really well.
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Honestly, I have so much love and respect for my Israeli mutuals and followers - when the world is yelling that your home shouldn't exist, that for a perfect, just world in the future, it must be destroyed or dismantled; when the world celebrates and justifies horrendous and inhuman crimes against you; when the world has stripped you of your humanity entirely, preferring to pretend that you're all evil monsters for the purposes of their simplistic "good vs evil, black vs white" outlook, you're all just continuing to live your lives, standing strong and proud of who you are and where you come from. You will always have a friend and ally in me.
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Alternative Theory of Evolution, Gregori Maiofis, 2007
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Gli sembrava, per di più, che suo fratello lo guardasse con un'espressione canzonatoria (Fëdor Michajlovic Dostoevskij, I fratelli Karamazov, Firenze, Sansoni, 1969).
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A collection of Soviet school textbooks, from the early Soviet period to the late 1980s. Subjects range from Russian Language to chess! All available for free (PDF, DJVU). Enjoy!
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Hear me out, but I think Hannibal lost interest in actually doing psychiatry work to do his little experiments after Mizumono because Will had changed him too much.
Or more accurately, he couldn’t.
Hannibal is not God. He is Lucifer, the Fallen Angel. He does not create, but is instead a mirror to humanity’s dark reflection. He shows people their potential and exactly what they are capable of and influences them to indulge in it. All these murders and fancy tableaus and experiments. It’s not a calling or a duty or some kind of grand life mission. He does it simply because he can and because he likes it.
Will however is God or at least the God Hannibal worships. He not only understands killers and Hannibal as this entity, but he is capable of creating others in his dark image. Even before recognizing that Will held this power, Hannibal saw this potential in him. That he might possibly be the key to solving his seemingly endless Mischa problem. He just didn’t know how powerful he was at the time and what he was capable of outside of indulging in the realm of blood and breath. He is much more than just a killer. He is a shaper.
And when someone like Hannibal is shaped by God, everything changes. It distorts.
What’s the point in continuing any of it if he knows there’s a higher entity who has demonstrated his acts of divinity right in front of him? Actually dropped church roofs and sent a plague unto his parishioners? Not in theory or belief, but in reality?
It’s infuriating as it is admirable. It sparks excitement as much as it conjures a crippling sense of fear.
Who does the Devil become in the presence of an entity who can shape him? And what is he to do when he does?
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i do think some people on this website need to read better books. because, look, i have read a LOT of deeply mediocre popular new releases over the last few years and they still aren't as thoughtless and shallow and generic as the ones people talk about in discourse posts so either you are all making up books to get mad at (ENTIRELY POSSIBLE) or you are simply reading shit books and i promise. even on the most generic bestseller lists. there's better out there
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