Indigo,

White Rhododendron

| blushing phantom butterfly

people by rae kolarova

les tilleuls \ bleue \ noémie \ nap \ de l’art de garder des secrets \ après la pluie \ elles suivent le pollen gris \ bleues \ l’espèce fabulatrice \ refle-xion

kofi

Lavender Morning by Chris Cozen

“You will freeze in place if you remain this way. You must not, dear. You have to move.”

— Rainer Marie Rilke, letter to Sidonie Nádherná von Borutín, August 1, 1913, translated by Ulrich Baer

— clair de lune, tathève simonyan         

[text ID: i want a “waking up naked under dusty pink silky sheets” scene: / sunlights of hair cascading over the ivory of my back / untethered strands connecting beauty marks / my own constellation of starlight / and as the morning light sashays in / through the cracks / of this chain of blinds / and as this body of mine / welcomes in blues and yellows / there’s a sense of promise / dancing in the air / that’s not going anywhere. / i want a scene of / hands reaching for a door / not for a cover / for in this particular scene / there’s a body that wants to have me in it / and an i who wants to be in this body / i want this symbiotic bliss / this harmonious coexistence / of two opposing forces / reaching for the same door. / [i want debussy playing in the background] / hands reaching for a cup, hands boiling water, hands adding / a spoonful of coffee / hands never burning / hands running through hair / like wild horses / blindly unbounded / like leaves / succumbing to the breath of the wind / but in a good way / because succumbing oneself / doesn’t have to end with a death / not always / at least not when you can hear / clair de lune / softly whispering from the living room. / i want scenes with hands: / hands all over / all the time / hands that love / without a reason and with (one) / because it’s spring / because it’s no longer spring / because they are hands and that’s what they were made to do / because debussy is playing / and what else can one do / but love / unabashedly / with van gogh yellows / and picasso blues / and monet violets / and / i want a scene where / my name is no longer an unintended apology / but a silent promise / like the morning light / dancing in the air / painting its blue hues / yellow in its blues. / i want a scene where / my existence is a reason / and not an afterthought. / i want a scene of me not wanting any of these. / scenes of me naked under dusty pink silky sheets / waiting for the morning light / and knowing that it will come.]

Derek Jarman, Chroma

Artists who know how to draw armors or very detailed clothing are powerful

-Nicole Krauss, The History of Love

Frances Cha, If I Had Your Face // Carmen Maria Machado, In the Dream House