When All The Grey Settles, And The Narrow Lanes Wane, The Softness Trembles- Anger Remains. -anneshwa

He is so much like me, talking to him is like talking to myself, looking into his eyes is just like looking into the mirror.

-Anneshwa

“I loved you before I was born. It doesn’t make sense, I know. I saw your eyes before I had eyes to see. And I’ve lived longing for your every look ever since. That longing entered time as this body. And the longing grew as this body waxed. And the longing grows as this body wanes. That longing will outlive this body. I loved you before I was born. It makes no sense, I know. Long before eternity, I caught a glimpse of your neck and shoulders, your ankles and toes. And I’ve been lonely for you from that instant. That loneliness appeared on earth as this body. And my share of time has been nothing but your name outrunning my ever saying it clearly. Your face fleeing my ever kissing it firmly once on the mouth. In longing, I am most myself, rapt, my lamp mortal, my light hidden and singing. I give you my blank heart. Please write on it what you wish.”

— Li-Young Lee, from The Undressing: Poems; “I loved you before I was born”

Sometimes they say I'm

mad, but a grain of

madness is the best of art.

-Vincent van Gogh (At Eternity's Gate)

Wrapped me like a lullaby

In the echoes of my being reside the shattered pieces of yesterday, yearnings of today, and curiosity of tomorrow. In the lonely existence of this moment, the echoes get louder in the vacuum of my brain.

-Anneshwa

Gorgeous photo by @marinalaurel 💛

Moscow metro

"We have a choice. We can embrace our humanness, which means embracing our broken natures and the compassion that remains our best hope for healing. Or we can deny our brokenness, forswear compassion, and, as a result, deny our own humanity"

Bryan Stevenson

A city of ghosts

Lost from 2020

What do you do, when you don't feel your soul in your body? You wait for the soul to return, because it gets lost sometimes, but never forgets the way back home✨

~ Returning Home ~

Anneshwa ✨

I wish

I wish I wrote the way I thought; Obsessively, Incessantly, With maddening hunger. I’d write to the point of suffocation. I’d write myself into nervouse breakdowns, Manuscripts spiralling out like tentacles into abysmal nothing. And I’d write about you a lot more than I should.

Benedict Smith; “I Wish I Wrote the Way I Thought”