#literary

I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I’m awake, you know?

Ernest Hemingway

You once told me that the human eye is god’s loneliest creation. How so much of the world passes through the pupil and still it holds nothing. The eye, alone in its socket, doesn’t even know there’s another one, just like it, an inch away, just as hungry, as empty.

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous,Ocean Vuong

Isolation offered its own form of companionship: the reliable silence of her rooms, the steadfast tranquility of the evenings. The promise that she would find things where she put them, that there would be no interruption, no surprise. It greeted her at the end of each day and lay still with her at night.

The Lowland,Jhumpa Lahiri

Two Victorian aesthetic mood boards to coax my friends into reading The Watchmaker of Filigree Street. My love for this, and all works by Natasha Pulley runs very deep. I wish there was more of a fandom to crawl into.

Being quarantined has taken away a lot of things but has also given those at home time, a precious thing. Its allowed for my third read of this book, a silver lining to say the least.

Image © El Kane

21/04/2020

“There is still one difference left between us. You have a tenderness grown weary and I have a weariness grown tender.”

—Dulce Maria Loynaz, Absolute Solitude

Bad Timing 1980

“The weird thing about houses is that they almost always look like nothing is happening inside of them, even though they contain most of our lives"

—John Green, The Fault in Our Stars.