Last night I kissed you in my dream
I breathed in your scent
And got lost in your eyes
You held my face and kissed me goodbye
Last night I missed you in my dream
I missed the sound of your voice
And the rhythm of your heart beat
I missed the feeling of your fingers between mine
This morning I woke with an ache
Yet still tears refused to roll down my face
The waterfall has yet to come
What you did cannot be undone
This morning I woke with a broken heart
I remembered why I can’t kiss you again
Why you’re so close yet so far
I want to wash away the taste of you
With anything I can
Yet I still wish I could kiss you again
— shadesofmartell (via shadesofmartell)
— Doris Lessing, The Golden Notebook (via larmoyante)
I will not settle
for bits and pieces of you.
I want all of you.
LOOK AT THIS BABY
LOOK AT HER
On writing: 5 Literary voices we lost this year
The Guardian has a great article collecting quotes about life from writers we lost this year, but here’s what each had to say about writing:
Doris Lessing: “You should write, first of all, to please yourself. You shouldn’t care a damn about anybody else at all. But writing can’t be a way of life - the important part of writing is living. You have to live in such a way that your writing emerges from it.”
Chinua Achebe: "Imaginative literature does not enslave; it liberates the mind of man. Its truth is not like the canons of orthodoxy or the irrationality of prejudice and superstition. It begins as an adventure in self-discovery and ends in wisdom and humane conscience."
Seamus Heaney: “The gift of writing is to be self-forgetful … to get a surge of inner life or inner supply or unexpected sense of empowerment, to be afloat, to be out of yourself.”
Elmore Leonard: "So many people say, ‘I’m dying to write.’ Well, if you’re dying to write, why aren’t you writing? If you’re not writing, you’re not dying to do it enough."
Iain Banks: “Writing is like everything else: the more you do it the better you get. Don’t try to perfect as you go along, just get to the end of the damn thing. Accept imperfections. Get it finished and then you can go back.
Writers are often asked, How do you write? With a wordprocessor? an electric typewriter? a quill? longhand? But the essential question is, “Have you found a space, that empty space, which should surround you when you write?” Into that space, which is like a form of listening, of attention, will come the words, the words your characters will speak, ideas - inspiration.
If a writer cannot find this space, then poems and stories may be stillborn.
When writers talk to each other, what they discuss is always to do with this imaginative space, this other time. “Have you found it? Are you holding it fast?”
i am the dragon and you call me insane. you are privy to a great becoming, and you recognize nothing.