a n t a r e s

@fromtheashtothestars

gaia | scorpio | intp
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people as the four humours

phlegmatic: sunlight on a still lake, faded jeans, dog-eared notebooks, comfort films, wide smiles, buttered popcorn, warm blankets crowded on an unmade bed, hands linked by little fingers, smiley faces on torn up bits of paper, daydreams on the second-to-back seats of the bus at 4pm

choleric: sharp eyeliner and sharper words, lighting in the summer, black coffee and half a cigarette, lipstick kisses and mascara tears, the seductive allure of a stranger’s smile, angry words written and never sent, a cold mask for a breaking heart, you see yourself in the night sky but do not know whether your kinship is with the endless darkness or the lonely star that mars it

melancholic: warm tea and comfortable silence, soft eyes, messy hair, ink-stained hands, the sound of rain, a heart traced onto a fogged up windscreen, yellow clothes on the days where the sun seems to have left forever, waking up to tear-stained sheets and feeling a little bit lighter, hopscotch in puddles, love at first sight, nostalgia for the dreams of some beautiful future that you doubt will ever come

sanguine: gold rings and lopsided smirks, half-finished paintings, naps on the beach with your throat to the sun, the surprised burst of laughter that cracks a silence wide open, easy promises, broken hearts, lazy smiles at pretty girls, pretty lies to pretty boys, a type of light that makes people wonder if maybe you’re the sun and maybe we all just orbit you

phlegmatic

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"Ambizione"
Sono pretenziosa a richiedere e volere sempre il meglio che la vita può offrirmi? È forse una smania di perfezione o mancanza di umiltà la mia? Se é vero che il tempo non é infinito per un uomo allora perché accontentarsi della mediocrità delle cose? Perché vivere un mezzo piacere quando si puó arrivare a ben altri orizzonti molto più soddisfacenti?

agosto 2019 - maggio 2022

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"It's a very Greek idea, and a very profound one. Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves? Euripides speaks of the Maenads: head thrown I back, throat to the stars, "more like deer than human being." To be absolutely free! One is quite capable, of course, of working out these destructive passions in more vulgar and less efficient ways. But how glorious to release them in a single burst! To sing, to scream, to dance barefoot in the woods in the dead of night, with no more awareness of mortality than an animal! These are powerful mysteries. The bellowing of bulls. Springs of honey bubbling from the ground. If we are strong enough in our souls we can rip away the veil and look that naked, terrible beauty right in the face; let God consume us, devour us, unstring our bones. Then spit us out reborn."

— Donna Tartt, The Secret History

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2022

Quando ti renderai conto che ogni persona su questa terra è sostituibile, ti cadrà il mondo dalle mani. Crescere è difficile, ma assolutamente inevitabile. Un giorno capirai tante cose.

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macrolit
“God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of ‘parties’ with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear. And when at least you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter–they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.”

— Sylvia Plath