“The prettier the garden, the dirtier the hands of the gardener.”— B. E. Barnes, Put in work.
Untitled
by Izumi Shikibu
Silver dewdrops,
Dreams, this fleeting world,
And even illusions:
Were I to compare them to our love,
They would seem eternal.
if we could read minds I still don’t think we’d understand them.
like I’ve spoken to people who think in images, who have to translate each thought into words before they communicate. and I think entirely in words, laid out across the void inside my head. my father’s thinking is 3d, concepts structured in ways that are incredibly difficult to translate into words. and how would that look to me, if I could see into it? how do I perceive a thought that my mind cannot contain by the nature of their construction?
we all speak a private language to ourselves and we are always translating so we can speak to each other…don’t touch me I’m emotional
(via scottandhiskind)
“I wish that I could leave myself alone. I wish that I could finally feel that I punished myself enough.”— Carrie Fisher, The Princess Diarist
