your ailing heart and your criminal eyes

you could either be successful or be us, with our winning smiles, and us / with our catchy tunes and words - now we're photogenic, you know, we don't stand a chance.

❝Scrivere, ho scritto tanto. Ma scrivere è una forma sofisticata di silenzio.❞
(—— Baricco, Questa storia)


L’aria era così nitida che il ragazzino dagli occhiali verdi indovinava sulla neve il reticolo fitto delle orme di sci, dritte ed oblique, delle strisciate, delle gobbe, delle buche, delle pestate di racchetta, e gli pareva che là nell’informe pasticcio della vita fosse nascosta la linea segreta, l’armonia, solamente rintracciabile alla ragazza celeste-cielo, e questo fosse il miracolo di lei, di scegliere a ogni istante nel caos dei mille movimenti possibili quello e quello solo che era giusto e limpido e lieve e necessario, quel gesto e quello solo, tra mille gesti perduti, che contasse.　


❝The next afternoon, in Room21, in broad daylight, with the windows open and the faded curtains billowing, they laughed and cried and fucked with a joy whose gravity and innocence it fairly wrecks the autobiographer to think back on, and cried some more and fucked some more and lay next to each other with sweating bodies and full hearts and listened to the sighing of the pines. Patty felt like she’d taken some powerful drug that wasn’t wearing off, or like she’d fallen into an incredibly vivid dream that she wasn’t waking up from, except that she was fully aware, from second to second to second, that it wasn’t a drug or a dream but just life happening to her, a life with only a present and no past. a romance unlike any romance she’d imagined. Because Room21! How could she have imagined Room21? It was such a sweetly clean old-fashioned room, and Walter such a sweetly clean old-fashioned person. And she was 21 and could feel her 21ness in the young, clean, strong wind that was blowing down from Canada. Her little taste of eternity.❞
(—— Freedom - Jonathan Franzen)



e mi chiedo perché cerchiamo di impossessarci di nuovi mondi, quando ci siamo presi così poca cura del nostro.

Forse dovrei chiedermi questo, e anche tu: una volta che ci saremo portate alla reciproca rovina, l’una sotto gli occhi dell’altra, andremo semplicemente altrove? È così che funziona, è quasi la regola. Perché avere cura di una cosa nuova che si ha, se la si può rovinare e comprarne una nuova?


i’m reading sylvia plath’s diaries (even though i have like five other books i have to finish, but i just couldn’t resist). i’m quite scared by how much of me is actually in there, considering, you know, the whole head-in-the-oven-thing. 

i’m reading sylvia plath’s diaries (even though i have like five other books i have to finish, but i just couldn’t resist). i’m quite scared by how much of me is actually in there, considering, you know, the whole head-in-the-oven-thing.