Jean-Baptiste Del Amo, Animalia (trans. Frank Wynne)
finally made a playlist for that quiet but intense eat me down to the marrow want you in my bloodstream kinda love. enjoy!
i read your name as socrates at first because I'm blind and i want to apologize
in this house we keep it funky and fresh and respect the dialectic so i think old socky would be proud, don’t worry ✌
Hi- you may get many asks like this, but I just wanted to let you know that your blog has been something I turn to in moments of uncertainty and pain. Thank you so much for what you do here; it has rlly had an impact.
this warms my heart so much, anon, you have no idea. i hope you are safe and well in your little corner of the world ♡
Have you been well?
i have, thank you lovely x
John Banville, The Sea
[Text ID: “ ‘Don’t look so worried,’ she said. ‘I hated you, too, a little. We were human beings, after all.’ “]
Ben Webster and John Coltrane, 1960. ph. Roy DeCarava
“He did not know whether or not there were atheists in foxholes; he believed now there must have been many in field hospitals, and in the naval hospitals afterward, and in the hospital he had come home from long ago. In Korea and Vietnam, it was [his wife] he prayed to, if turning in fear and loneliness to someone was prayer. Certainly it was hope.”
— Andre Dubus, “The Colonel’s Wife” (for Nicole), Dancing After Hours
Walt Whitman, “The Last Invocation”, Leaves of Grass
[Text ID: “(Strong is you hold O mortal flesh,
Strong is your hold O love.)”]
For there is no doubt that her swirling hair murmured like underground fountains, sighed like the breeze whispering through leaves.￼
– María Luisa Bombal, from “Braids,” New Islands and Other Stories (Cornell University Press, 1988)
Ariel Dorfman, excerpt from Missing (from “The Hour of Poetry”, John Berger)
[Text ID: “If he were dead
I’d know it.
Don’t ask me how.
I have no proof,
no clues, no answer, nothing that proves
There’s the sky,
the same blue
it always was.
But that’s no proof.
Atrocities go on
and the sky never changes.]
“He’s my editor. The first person who reads my work. He’s the friend who knows the self that I put in my novels better than anyone else.”
Yoko Ogawa, The Memory Police (tr. Stephen Snyder)
Setty Abraham from Baghdad and Mack Coad from Alabama pose for a picture together during the Spanish Civil War. Both were antifascist fighters in the International Brigades who traveled to fight the forces under Franco.
Setty Abraham was a typographer, interpreter, and writer born in Baghdad and was working in South America before the war.
Mack Coad was a steelworker from Birmingham and Communist Party organizer. He is mentioned in books such as “Hammer and Hoe: Alabama Communists During the Great Depression” and Harry Haywood’s autobiography “Black Bolshevik”.
Sujata Bhatt, from “Truth is Mute″, Poppies in Translation
[Text ID: “love will be silent with love.”]