and something along the lines of this:
“Hey, Mr. Nakata. Gramps. Fire! Flood! Earthquake! Revolution! Godzilla’s on the loose! Get up!”
— Haruki Murakami (Kafka on the Shore)
(awesome photo and chile recipe from beatrice valenzuela)
“Have you also learned that secret from the river; that there is no such thing as time? That the river is everywhere at the same time, at the source and at the mouth, at the waterfall, at the ferry, at the current, in the ocean and in the mountains, everywhere, and that the present only exists for it, not the shadow of the past nor the shadow of the future.”
Night and day the river flows. If time is the mind of space, the River is the soul of the desert. Brave boatmen come, they go, they die, the voyage flows on forever. We are all canyoneers. We are all passengers on this little mossy ship, this delicate dory sailing round the sun that humans call the earth.
Joy, shipmates, joy.
~Edward Abbey, The Hidden Canyon
“All forms of beauty, like all possible phenomena, contain an element of the eternal and an element of the transitory — of the absolute and of the particular. Absolute and eternal beauty does not exist, or rather it is only an abstraction creamed from the general surface of different beauties. The particular element in each manifestation comes from the emotions: and just as we have our own particular emotions, so we have our own beauty.”
photos: at the zoo
“Or else I shall grow old,” she said,
“Alone, and change my likeliness
For a vile, slack shape, a head
Shriveled with thinking wickedness
Against the day I must be dead
And eaten by my crabbed wish.”
from young woman by howard nemerov
“You must give birth to your images. They are the future waiting to be born. Fear not the strangeness you feel. The future must enter you long before it happens. Just wait for the birth, for the the hour of the new clarity.”
~Rainer Maria Rilke
(thank you Leigh – for sharing little M’s birth story once again)
(photo: a father’s view)
“She loved that man madly, but in a delirious way of some kind; there was never any mooching and mincing around, just talk and a very deep companionship that none of us would ever be able to fathom. Something curiously unsympathetic and cold between them was really a form of humor by which they communicated their own set of subtle vibrations. Love is all; Jane was never more than ten feet away from Bull and never missed a word he said, and he spoke in a very low voice, too.”
~Jack Kerouac, On the Road
photo found while combing through the old photos.
love taken by lover in an abandoned building,
now torn down and gone.
but the heart remains.