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anges noirs

@naguibeyeoftruth / naguibeyeoftruth.tumblr.com

Imagination is better than Reality
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pokicha

The Greek class was limited down to six students who all coincidentally had a difficult home life (Possibly an absent father figure? Not sure, need to reread again). Julian manipulates them and twists their mind into believing they're gods and elites. The biggest victim being Henry, whose relationship with his father figure is not ideal and who sees Julian as one. The kiss was also...something. Rather the whole class sees him as one. Do I believe the theory of him being behind everything? Pulling the strings and playing Dionysus in the forest? No. But, do I think he has a strong influence over the class and fucked them up mentally? Yeah. I also think him leaving was the last straw for Henry and resulted in his death. He is a groomer and a coward. That's the hill I will die on.

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apoemaday

XVII

by Adrienne Rich

No one’s fated or doomed to love anyone. The accidents happen, we’re not heroines, they happen in our lives like car crashes, books that change us, neighborhoods we move into and come to love. Tristan und Isolde is scarcely the story, women at least should know the difference between love and death. No poison cup, no penance. Merely a notion that the tape-recorder should have caught some ghost of us: that tape-recorder not merely played but should have listened to us, and could instruct those after us: this we were, this is how we tried to love, and these are the forces they had ranged against us, and theses are the forces we had ranged within us, within us and against us, against us and within us.

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“You’ve kissed my hair to wake me. I dreamed you were a poem,
I say, a poem I wanted to show someone.”

//Adrienne Rich, Poem II - Twenty One Poems

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the language of love-letters, of suicide notes,

Adrienne Rich, Diving into the Wreck; from ‘Trying to Talk with a Man’

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adrienne rich, of women born: motherhood as experience and institution / alexandra levasseur - body of land collection, 2015 / ana teresa barboza - bordados collection, 2004 / margaret atwood, “europe on $5 a day” / tracey emin - it was all too much, 2018 / clarice lispector, a breath of life / gérard lartigue- femme bougie, 2018 / jenefer schute, life-size / louise bourgeois - i DISTANCE myself from myself, 2010 / wayne koestenbaum, “figure” / henrik uldalen - caries and surge, 2017 / andrés cerpa, “the vault” / jennifer’s body (2009) / enrico robusti- food, sex, & irony collection, 2014 / sylvia plath, the bell jar

i distance myself from myself

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Behind all art is an element of desire. … Love of life, of existence, love of another human being, love of human beings is in some way behind all art — even the most angry, even the darkest, even the most grief-stricken, and even the most embittered art has that element somewhere behind it. Because how could you be so despairing, so embittered, if you had not had something you loved that you lost? 
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philosophors
“There must be those among whom we can sit down and weep and still be counted as warriors.”

Adrienne Rich

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funeral

The entire history of women’s struggle for self-determination has been muffled in silence over and over. One serious cultural obstacle encountered by any feminist writer is that each feminist work has tended to be received as if it emerged from nowhere; as if each of us had lived, thought, and worked without any historical past or contextual present. This is one of the ways in which women’s work and thinking has been made to seem sporadic, errant, orphaned of any tradition of its own.

Adrienne Rich, On Lies, Secrets, and Silence

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megairea
Perhaps all our loves are merely hints and symbols; vagabond-language scrawled on gate-posts and paving-stones along the weary road that other have tramped before us; perhaps you and I are types and this sadness which sometimes falls between us springs from disappointment in our search, each straining through and beyond the other, snatching a glimpse now and then of the shadow which turns the corner always a pace or two ahead of us.

Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited, 1945

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