We Teeter / On The Brink Of Time, You And I, He, She, / All Of Us, All So Worthy Of Pity.

‘Agamemnon,’ Aeschylus (translated by Anne Carson)

her eyes are pure stars, and her fingers, if they touch you, freeze you to the bone.

- Virginia Woolf, Orlando

there is also the waiting, the kind which has survived hundreds of tides and ebbs of hours...Take them along with my body.

Marzena Broda, [Come back to me...] tr. Regina Grol

the light is not something you see, exactly. You don't look at it, or breathe, you feel a pressure but you don't look. It is like being in the same room as a man you love. Other people are in the room. He may be smoking a cigarette. And you know you are not strong enough to look at him (yet) although the fact that he is there, silent and absent beside a thin wisp of cigarette smoke, hammers you. You rest your chin on your hand, like a saint on a pillar. Moments elongate and drop. A radiance is hitting your skin from somewhere, every nerve begins to burn outward through the surface, your lungs float in a substance like rage, sweet as rage, no! - don't look.

Anne Carson, Kinds of Water

those eyes which looked as if they had been fished from the bottom of the sea

- Virginia Woolf, Orlando

How do you capture someone who was always slipping away?

Niall Williams, History of the Rain

Rock paintings in the Chauvet Cave (France), some of the oldest cave paintings in the world.

They date back 30 – 32,000 years ago, from the Aurignacian tradition of the Upper Paleolithic.  The cave was closed off by a rock fall around 20,000 years ago, and was rediscovered in 1994.

it’s been two days and i’m still obsessed with this answer from céline sciamma about portrait of a lady on fire

of burning but unwasting fire

- Virginia Woolf, Orlando

Does the earth fill the mouths of the dead to stop them from describing what they've seen?

Garous Abdolmalekian, Long Poem of Loneliness tr. Ahmed Nadalizadeh and Idra Novey