(via leukocytes)
1 week ago with 206 notes
I feel the dead in the cold of violets
And that great vagueness in the moon.
The earth is doomed to be a ghost,
She who rocks all death in herself.
I know I sing at the edge of silence,
I know I dance around suspension,
Possess around dispossession.
I know I pass around the mute dead
And hold within myself my own death.
But I have lost my being in so many beings,
Died my life so many times,
Kissed my ghosts so many times,
Known nothing of my acts so many times,
That death will be simply like going
From inside the house into the street.
Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen | “I Feel the Dead” trans. by Ruth Fainlight
(via ekphora.blogspot.com)
(Source: evoketheforms)
Bryan Sheffield, still longing for snow and cold and ice and cold cold cold. The view from this window, as well as this photograph, is perfect.
(via sleepingtigers)
