She was not ugly or absurd, in herself, only a little dried and hollowed, with straw hair tightly and tastelessly curled, and skin somewhat roughened, as if she had been for a long time facing a harsh wind. There was no blood in her cheeks, and something like dust lay over her face. People who looked at her knew that she was old, and had been old always.

image: here
text: Alice Munro’s first story
(thank you erica lorraine)

Today 9th June of the year 1939

dollop of syrup
frizzing her hair
like feathers
in the middle of the fried egg
smelling of her song
of lilies

poem and painting: mother and child on the beach – picasso

Ah Margarida,
If I gave you my life,
What would you do with it?

I’d take my earrings out of hook,
Marry a blind man,
And live on a tree-lined block.

1. George Hendrik Breitner. The Earring. 1893
2. poem: Ah Margarida by Álvaro de Campos

and a treat:
the flowers she sent and the flowers she said she sent

…
And you tremble like an ostrich
In your ostrich feather coat

“…I’ve stabilized my life to an extent now over these past 10 years. I’m very at ease, and I like it. I never thought I would be such a family-oriented guy; I didn’t think that was part of my makeup. But somebody said that as you get older you become the person you always should have been, and I feel that’s happening to me. I’m rather surprised at who I am, because I’m actually like my dad.”

1. ziggy
2. david bowie

O weary hearts! O slumbering eyes!
O drooping souls, whose destinies
Are fraught with fear and pain,
Ye shall be loved again!

No one is so accursed by fate,
No one so utterly desolate,
But some heart, though unknown,
Responds unto his own.

Responds,–as if with unseen wings,
An angel touched its quivering strings;
And whispers, in its song,
“‘Where hast thou stayed so long?”

poem: endymion – henry wadsworth longfellow
image: Diana the huntress, fresco. Pompeii, Italy. 1st century A.D.

A woman in the shape of a monster
a monster in the shape of a woman
the skies are full of them

image: Virgin and Child with the Milk Soup, Gerard David
poem: planetarium, adrienne rich
and something i missed: her obituary

Sleep,
sleep.
We are together always
We are together always
There never was a time
when this
was not so.

poem: Leslie Marmon Silko, “Lullaby”
image: here

how time passes and quickly they grow.

poem: the window diane di prima
image found here