"And she had learned that you couldn't stockpile anything that mattered, really. Feelings, people, songs, sex, fireworks; they existed only in time, and when it was over, so were they."
readsreadsreads reblogged
Summertime, reading outdoors, getting a tan.
Where I’ve been.
readsreadsreads reblogged
Swimming Home with a cat at home.
readsreadsreads reblogged
The world had become increasingly mysterious. And so had she.
Deborah Levy, Swimming Home (via ahundredmillions)
readsreadsreads reblogged
When your cat decides you’ve read enough for today.
Academic purpose explained. Courtesy of @ airtasker (Twitter).
readsreadsreads reblogged
bibstudies
Sunday evening vibes.
readsreadsreads reblogged
Pool read.
Considering that I was a Master of Nothingness, the whole of my empirical investigation should have been next to impossible. The thought of going from door to door, interviewing complete strangers, should have stopped me in my tracks. But that was what I had chosen to do. And though at times I had itched with embarrassment, wanting to retreat into Nothingness, when all had told me their stories--for those few moments of complete transference, when their nerves became my own, when I disappeared into their words--I had felt myself, strangely, reappear. My imagination of their sadness and hope; it was as if there had been a hollow, unfathomable dark place and their stories had held light to its walls, mapping its depths. The thought was this: maybe what I really wanted wasn't to disappear, or to understand the disease, or even to find answers to who my mom had been. Maybe the point of my so-called empirical investigation had been as simple as that, to hear their stories and, by imagining the shapes of their burdens, to begin to understand the shape of my own.
Stefan Merrill Block, The Story of Forgetting
readsreadsreads reblogged
gomcgill
Consider the possibility of healthy boundaries without struggle. Unyielding, yet calm. Strong, yet kind.
Bryant McGill (via laurenlivingroom)
The happiness of our childhood was a total ignorance to the millions of ways life could be different.
Stefan Merrill Block, The Story of Forgetting
“For so many years, I could live so simply without being reminded of the world.” – Stefan Merrill Block, The Story of Forgetting
readsreadsreads reblogged
My weekend read.
readsreadsreads reblogged
readsreadsreads reblogged
thetinhouse-deactivated20180604
Independent bookstores are wonderful, magical places. Because each book will have been hand-selected you know all of them are jewels just waiting to be discovered. And if an independent bookseller presses a particular book into your hands, you know it will come recommended from the heart. If you have an independent bookstore in your town, use it, treasure it.
Claire Fuller, author of OUR ENDLESS NUMBERED DAYS (via thetinhouse)
Though boys were prized for their potential to one day bear the holy Melchizedek priesthood, to be leaders in the church and soldiers for Christ, they had a significant downside: they were boys. Until they turned twelve or so, the mothers agreed, they were as inconvenient and as thoroughly useless as a pack of feral cats. Girls were better in just about every way: more helpful, calmer, more responsible, smarter. A series of distinctions which, unfortunately, didn’t seem to change all that much as girls turned into women and boys to men. Though they discussed it only among themselves, and more often than not treated it as a joking matter, the women of the church considered it one of God’s great mysteries why He, in all His wisdom, had ever decided to put the boys in charge.
Brady Udall, The Lonely Polygamist