eerilyschtum.

this was genuinely one of the best birthdays i've ever had. i love my friends more than words can say. they're truly the best. (also, i forgot to take a picture of my birthday cake)

— vingt et unième anniversaire

i suppose, happy twenty-one !!!

“This is the city where men are mended. I lie on a great anvil. The flat blue sky-circle, flew off like the hat of a doll, when I fell out of the light. I entered the stomach of indifference, the wordless cupboard. The mother of pestles diminished me. I became a still pebble. The stones of the belly were peaceable, the head-stone quiet, jostled by nothing. Only the mouth-hole piped out, importunate cricket in a quarry of silences. The people of the city heard it. They hunted the stones, taciturn and separate, the mouth-hole crying their locations. Drunk as a foetus, I suck at the paps of darkness. The food tubes embrace me. Sponges kiss my lichens away. The jewelmaster drives his chisel to pry, open one stone eye. This is the after-hell: I see the light. A wind unstoppers the chamber, of the ear, old worrier. Water mollifies the flint lip, and daylight lays its sameness on the wall. The grafters are cheerful, heating the pincers, hoisting the delicate hammers. A current agitates the wires, volt upon volt. Catgut stitches my fissures. A workman walks by carrying a pink torso. The storerooms are full of hearts. This is the city of spare parts. My swaddled legs and arms smell sweet as rubber. Here they can doctor heads, or any limb. On Fridays the little children come to trade their hooks for hands. Dead men leave eyes for others. Love is the uniform of my bald nurse. Love is the bone and sinew of my curse. The vase, reconstructed, houses, the elusive rose. Ten fingers shape a bowl for shadows. My mendings itch. There is nothing to do. I shall be good as new.” — The Stones, by Sylvia Plath

— The Sound of Music, 1965 Dir. Robert Wise

— The Sound of Music, 1965 Dir. Robert Wise

When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone be weep my outcast state, And trouble heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself and curse my fate. Ah, poetry.

I think the spirit of this century has finally taken me and broken me.

— Orlando, 1992 Dir. Sally Potter

“home again, driven back, she's still waiting for a friend, little purple organdie, remember what you've always meant to me, something in the way a heart is held upon a hand, swimming in the coral waters, head above the sand, heaven, baby, is in the hour, with your heart in handfuls, forbidden flowers, bread and bonnets along the way, better take your chances while there's still a ray, something in the way a heart is held upon a hand, swimming in the coral waters, head above the sand, constant home of my devotion, must be you, the door to open, home again, be here, be with me, will I swim out on your ocean? constant home of my devotion, must be you, the door to open, home again, be here, be with me, will I swim out on your ocean? constant home of my devotion, must be you, the door to open, home again, be here, be with me, will I swim out on your ocean?”

“through your eyes I see a smile you bring to me, to your joy, I tether, not a lot, just forever, intertwined, sewn together, like the rock bears the weather, not a lot, just forever, my dog barks wildly to protect my infancy, from my ex-believer, and I try to calm the wolf, to remind her I am both, still she tears at my sweater, not a lot, just forever, intertwined, sewn together, as the wren sheds her feather, not a lot, just forever, and your dearest fantasy is to grow a baby in me, I could be a good mother, and I wanna be your wife, so I hold you to my knife, and I steal your letter, not a lot, just forever, intertwine some together, as the rock bears the weather, not a lot, just forever, so I bash around the house, and the poison stains my mouth, she comes, I let her, and we share a paradise, and I roll them once or twice, can't get much better, not a lot, just forever, intertwined, sewn together, as the rock bears the weather, not a lot, just forever, not a lot, just forever, intertwined, sewn together, as the wren bares her feathers, not a lot, just forever.”

”تو این جنگ همه بازنده‌ان.“ — عصیان، از یوزف روت

”حکومت چیزی مافوق همهٔ انسان‌هاست، همچون آسمان بر فراز زمین. آنچه از دل حکومت بیرون آید، ممکن است خیر و شر باشد، اما همیشه بزرگ و مهیب است و حتی اگر گاهی برای آدم های معمولی فهمیدنی و درک‌پذیر باشد، غریب و درک‌ناپذیر است.“ — عصیان، از یوزف روت