dead twigs


extremely delicate and light in a way that seems too perfect for this world

Brian Eno - Signals / Faye Wong - Yesanpo / Fka Twigs - Water me / Yoko Ueno - Flexigons / Minnie Riperton - Minnie’s lament / Iyeoka - Baba / Lianne La Havas - Wonderful / Tweet - Heaven / f(x) - Butterfly / The Tontons - Pony / Chairlift - Cool as fire / Susumu Hirasawa - Moon time / Dead Can Dance - Yulunga / Bernard Herrmann - Twisted nerve / Goldfrapp - Pilots / Daughter - Switzerland instrumental / Nancy Sinatra - Bang Bang / Mirel Wagner - Dreamt of a wave/ Odetta - Anthem of the Rainbow

and the gray Sunflower poised against the sunset, crackly bleak and dusty with the smut and smog and smoke of olden locomotives in its eye—
corolla of bleary spikes pushed down and broken like a battered crown, seeds fallen out of its face, soon-to-be-toothless mouth of sunny air, sunrays obliterated on its hairy head like a dried wire spiderweb,
leaves stuck out like arms out of the stem, gestures from the sawdust root, broke pieces of plaster fallen out of the black twigs, a dead fly in its ear,
Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O my soul, I loved you then!
—  Allen Ginsberg, Sunflower Sutra

Dry and dead twigs crackled underneath Gintoki’s feet as he walked and there were also some leaves down there that he really didn’t like. Even though he was the one stepping on them, they still startled him, and that was terrible because under usual circumstances, he really enjoyed the sound of crunchy leaves. Gintoki grabbed onto Takasugi’s cloak and clutched the fabric tight between his fingers as he glanced over his shoulder for what was probably the thousandth time since they’d left.

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Kira looked downward as she walked through the wood just outside of town. The sun was getting close to it’s set, filling the sky with beautiful oranges pinks and fuchsias through the sky. Normally at this time she’d be working on homework, or relaxing with friends, but it was a full moon. Her plans weren’t up for debate tonight. She was still new to it all, but she already knew that she’d prefer to change in the woods rather than at home.

She let out a sift sigh as she started to drag her feet through the dead leaves and twigs. She jumped when she heard the breaking of twigs that weren’t from her. “Oh.” She gasped, spinning around and looking to her new company. “Hi. Just, uh, ya know. Taking a nice casual walk. In the most casual way.”

ritual sleeps within us all and is only awake when we don’t know it. i know because when girls go outside they make potions. 

it’s never one girl’s idea but everyone’s idea unspoken only felt and known through feeling. this is what we must do. the oldest stirs the pot while the others gather: wildflowers, twigs, dead leaves, ghost rocks, dandelion puffs, clovers, thorns, grass, clay. they know what holds magic. they can pick out enchanted stones from a gravel road, sort through weeds to find the most potent petals. they bring back their harvest to the oldest child, the one wise enough to know but young enough to believe. she stirs the pot, the hose water and the magic. they drink, lips pressed to metal. they dance. they hide it under porches and never tell.

when girls go outside they make worlds.

January 29, 2016 - White-throated Robin-chat (Cossypha humeralis)

These Old World flycatchers are found in parts of Mozambique, Zimbabwe, Botswana, Swaziland, and South Africa. They eat invertebrates and fruits, foraging mostly on the ground, sometimes catching insects in the air. Their nests are open cups built from twigs, dead leaves, grass, and other plant materials. Females incubate the eggs alone, but both parents feed the chicks.