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Merde il pleut

@guccidemo

Summer of love 1967. Cristina
“This tremendous world I have inside of me. How to free myself, and this world, without tearing myself to pieces. And I’d rather tear myself to a thousand pieces than be buried with this world within me.”

— Franz Kafka, Diaries of Franz Kafka

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tamsoj

Anna Swir, from A Book of Luminous Things: An International Anthology of Poetry, “The Same Inside,” tr. by Czeslaw Milosz and Leonard Nathan  

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reinbeau
eye movements made by subjects while examining i. e. repin’s painting “an unexpected visitor”, with different questions in mind
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luthienne

George Seferis, from Collected Poems; "Memory I" (tr. Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard)

[Text ID: I whispered: memory hurts wherever you touch it,]