"What is the light
at the end of the day, deep, reddish-gold, bathing the walls,
the corridors, light that is no longer light, no longer clarifies,
illuminates, antique, freed from the body of
the air that carries it. What is it
for the space of time
where it is useless, merely
— Jorie Graham, from “Salmon”
what am i doing?
there is a god.
aww shit did someone go to Yoders? that’s my placeeeee
recreating paintings and cutting photos out of magazines is so satisfying.
"Never in my life had I seen anyone so clearly as I saw these people; not a detail of their clothes or features escaped me. And yet I couldn’t hear them, and it was hard to believe they really existed."
— Albert Camus, The Stranger (via wordsfullofechoes)