Last night I dreamt that I was standing in the fifth northern hall facing the statue of the gorilla. The gorilla dismounted from his plinth and came towards me with his slow knuckle-walk. He was grey-white in the moonlight; and I flung my arms around his massive neck and told him how happy I was to be home. When I awoke I thought: I am not home. I am here.
Piranesi by Susanna Clarke
#books
In Love Again by Ex-Vöid
Suicidology (SUICIDE PREVENTION & AWARENESS) with Dr. DeQuincy Meiffren-Lézine, Ologies with Alie Ward
#podcasts
Only takes a few minutes for the brain to shut off / And I’m holding my breath and waiting to rot / And I’ll go / I'll go anywhere but home
I can't say if I was already beginning to realise it then, but soon I would start making room to think of you properly. To grieve what happened to you—not the death stuff but all the other stuff. That soon I'd stop living in my own loss and begin the monstrous task of contemplating you, and not just your suffering, and that eventually I would feel closer to you.
Sunbathing by Isobel Beech
#books
Everything I touch turns to shit / That's just it / I'm not the good person you think