Sabine by GianLuca Fontana
©® Gianluca Fontana - All rights reserved
(Source: les-filles-iterabilite, via shoestringsandpersimmons)
She gleans daisies because it reminds her of him. She sits at the coffee shop twirling its delicate stem watching the door, hoping he will come in. The hours and days pass and in an overstimulated state from too much caffeine, she changes the order to distilled water and continues to wait. This…
"She was breathing deeply, she forgot the cold, the weight of beings, the insane or static life, the long anguish of living or dying. After so many years running from fear, fleeing crazily, uselessly, she was finally coming to a halt. At the same time she seemed to be recovering her roots, and the sap rose anew in her body, which was no longer trembling. Pressing her whole belly against the parapet, leaning toward the wheeling sky, she was only waiting for her pounding heart to settle down, and for the silence to form in her. The last constellations of stars fell in bunches a little lower on the horizon of the desert, and stood motionless. Then, with an unbearable sweetness, the waters of the night began to fill her, submerging the cold, rising gradually to the center of her being, and overflowing wave upon wave to her moaning mouth. A moment later, the whole sky stretched out above her as she lay with her back against the cold earth."
— Albert Camus, “The Adulterous Woman”
From Exile and the Kingdom (via liquidnight)
There is a long line of “bad hearts” in my family. Two uncles departed due to heart conditions on my mother’s side, and my father himself succumbed to the same fate. I was first exposed to this hereditary glitch with my Uncle Raul. I was 6 years old when he passed away. My mom would always say,…
