1. hilda doolittle, loss // 2. phoebe bridgers, waiting room // 3. holly warburton // 4. matthew goulish, to grieve // 5. fortessa latifi, the truth about grief // 6. lord huron, in the wind // 7. a. timofeev, spring // 8. @heavensghost on tumblr // 9. phoebe bridgers, smoke signals
what the fuck is going on this year. january through june didnt happen. july is a distant memory. august and september were the longest months of my life. october ended in 5 seconds. why is november here already this isn’t right
It’s the season erosion from the climate crisis, combined with a hyperindividualistic and stress-bound society. It warps your sense of time.
The purest form of love is consideration. When someone thinks about how things would make you feel. Pays attention to detail. Holds you in regard when making decisions that could affect you. In any bond, how much they care about you can be found in how much they consider you
“In ancient Rome, grief made men twirl in their thin, leather sandals and pirouette until their feet bled; in India, it walked widows onto pyres waiting for fire. The Persians gave the bodies of their deceased beloveds to dogs; the Egyptians buried them with servants. Grief will make you laugh at the funeral, weep over the cereal bowl; it will buzz your feet until they start dancing in the middle of the night. It’s grief that inspires the unlikeliest of bedfellows… Grief will pack your bag, quit your job, buy a white dress. It will make you say yes.”
luz mala, a myth in argentine and uruguayan history. literally translated as ‘evil light’ the phenomenon takes the form of will-o’-the-wisp, atmospheric ghost lights which dance vividly on barren landscape. the light is thought to emanate deadly gases, a product of decomposed bones. according to the gauchos - who traditionally dominate these barren plains – this luz mala appears during the driest times of the year. as with many mythical stories involving a brilliant light, the myth suggests that men have been tempted to venture towards the source of the light, only to find broken pottery remnants containing human remains.
