safecosima

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#sappho #skjdjdjxhdksjidjf

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ancient greek word of the day: εὐήλιος (euēlios), sunny; of persons, fond of the sun, fond of basking

#about #this is me living in london tbn #my escape to florida has brought outbmy inner sun lady

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(by Marek K. Misztal)

#seas #nice

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#words

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Paolo Sebastian ss18 couture

#my lewk

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#ooooo

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#LET ME LIVE HERE GOD

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#my look

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Food Porn by Sarah Bahbah

#gooood content #anatomy

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François-Henri Galland

#anatomy #i love

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Alyssa Monks

Trust (oil on linen)

2010

#anatomy

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–im afraid of serious the way a slice of sunbeam feels on morning arm like praying half asleep

Leena Joshi, from “the stranger” published in Gramma (via lifeinpoetry)

#words #go d

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I have a taste for the evening. I have indulgence for the dawn.

Jacques Roubaud, from E:White

I need to exist inside dawn’s light. I need to give in to the presence of everything humble, boundlessly sincere and extraordinarily terrifying.

Virginia Woolf, from a journal entry

People complain about how dark it is in the mornings. But this is often the best time of my day, when the dawn peers gray and silent into my pale windows.

Etty Hillesum, from a diary entry

The little rosy / Tongue of Dawn / Interferes with our eyelashes.

Mina Loy, from Songs to Joannes

To walk into my house is to walk into dawn, into color, into music, into perfume, into magic, into harmony.

Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry

Before midnight. After midnight. Again. / Again. Again. And, near dawn, again.

Ted Hughes, from Last Letter,

She watched dawn arrive in a burst of pink. In the fog the first little birds began to chirp sweetly, not yet frenzied. God was illuminating her body.

Clarice Lispector, from Miss Algrave

I never get to sleep until dawn, you see, and it’s been that way for a year now. I sit by the table in my armchair all night long and do nothing. I sit, not thinking about anything in particular, just like that; vague thoughts wander through my mind, and I let them flow as they please.

Fyodor Dostoevsky, from a letter

We talk like roomates / Bleeding night to dawn.

Robert Lowell, from Selected Poems

Yes, I am happy, the dawn never / burnt with more purity, I am / happy to give everything to you / and to go away / like a beggar.

Marina Tsvetaeva, from Poems for Akhmatova

I don’t see the dawn, I don’t sleep, I suffocate.

Arthur Rimbaud, from a letter

It’s still almost dawn. These hours are as vast as stretches of sky. It’s too much, time can’t find a way through. Time has stopped passing.

Marguerite Duras, from The Malady of Death

#words #same

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Lidia Yuknavitch

#wow

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I drink the cold pure night air and the clear unbelievably delicate crescent-moonlight with a greedy reverence.

Sylvia Plath, from the ‘The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath’ (via echymosis)

#g o d

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#words