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Robin

@robinsinghs-blog

for your interpretation and my sanity.
I thought of how this could be happiness, and maybe in retrospect it was false, not real, since what were we anyway except a group of broken people who’d all known loss in extraordinary ways [. . .], who all had come together in replicating what was taken, but in that moment with you [. . .] it felt like something, a becoming, if you will, and I wanted to remember it, and still now there is the desire to hold on to this moment so ordinary, but it is always the most ordinary of moments you later want to keep, because those are the ones most representative of life, of living, and I think now of what I thought then—if this is the closest I’ll ever get to such a moment then I will take it, so please let me have this, this ordinary moment of perfection, please just let me have this, whether real or not it doesn’t matter, the rest of it doesn’t matter anymore, this memory will be enough, if I can hold onto it, let me remember it a little longer, please don’t let me forget, for as long as I can let myself remember, please I’ll say over and over, my own prayer, and I am a child once again asking for what [I'll] never have [. . .], and yet, still I call for it, still I say over and over, please just let me remember, if I can have nothing else, then let me have, at least, this.

LaTanya McQueen, from "Before It All Came Tumbling Down," Shenandoah (vol. 72, no. 2, Spring 2023)

MAKE ME CHOOSE@kuweisyulbos asked the secret history or vicious

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? [insp]
“For if the modern mind is whimsical and discursive, the classical mind is narrow, unhesitating, relentless. It is not a quality of intelligence that one encounters frequently these days. But though I can digress with the best of them, I am nothing in my soul if not obsessive.”

(Tartt, The Secret History).

He wanted to tell her that he had seen a part of the night sky resting in her eyes and that he knew it because it lived in him as well.

Cynthia Bond, from 'Ruby'