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ABOUT ME
living and feeling the great vibes of aesthetics, music, endorphine and perfectionism. cautious materialism and black humour. gypsies. hippies. pirates. movie taste of a fifteen-year-old boy. metallic galore. dark chocolate and green tea.
this blog is all about my theory of happiness. what's your theory?
this blog is all about my theory of happiness. what's your theory?
ALSO FOUND AT
WORDS OF IMPORTANCE
--Names called out across the water,
names I called you behind your back,
sour and delicious, secret and unrepeatable,
the names of flowers that open only once,
shouted from balconies, shouted from rooftops,
or muffled by pillows, or whispered in sleep,
or caught in the throat like a lump of meat.
I try, I do. I try and try. A happy ending?
Sure enough－Hello darling, welcome home.--
[Saying Your Names by Richard Siken]
There was a child went forth every day,
And the first object he looked upon, that object he became,
And that object became part of him for the day or a certain part of the day,
Or for many years or stretching cycles of years.--
[There Was A Child Went Forth by Walt Whitman]
--That's right. A reciprocal metaphor. Things outside you are projections of what's inside you, and what's inside you is a projection of what's outside. So when you step into the labyrinth outside you, at the same time you're stepping into the labyrinth inside. Most definitely a risky business.--
[Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami]
names I called you behind your back,
sour and delicious, secret and unrepeatable,
the names of flowers that open only once,
shouted from balconies, shouted from rooftops,
or muffled by pillows, or whispered in sleep,
or caught in the throat like a lump of meat.
I try, I do. I try and try. A happy ending?
Sure enough－Hello darling, welcome home.--
[Saying Your Names by Richard Siken]
There was a child went forth every day,
And the first object he looked upon, that object he became,
And that object became part of him for the day or a certain part of the day,
Or for many years or stretching cycles of years.--
[There Was A Child Went Forth by Walt Whitman]
--That's right. A reciprocal metaphor. Things outside you are projections of what's inside you, and what's inside you is a projection of what's outside. So when you step into the labyrinth outside you, at the same time you're stepping into the labyrinth inside. Most definitely a risky business.--
[Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami]
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