January 2012
41 posts
2 tags
“And the nights, bigger than imagining: black and gusty and enormous, disordered...”
– Donna Tartt, The Secret History
1 tag
I accidentally locked myself out tonight in a snow squall. There was the moon all foggy-luminous, trees creaking like old rocking chairs, and those lovely big cotton-puff snowflakes. One really shouldn’t go wandering in the woods at night, but then there was a fox, and it stopped suddenly in its tracks. We stared at each other for a second, caught, and then he slipped into the trees. How...
2 tags
1 tag
Inside the Golden Egg by El Perro Del Mar
1 tag
December 2011
26 posts
1 tag
Oh help. Where do these phantom sadnesses come from? Now I’m drunk in bed and all alone and lost. And what words could possibly suffice until the rain of sadness has passed?
3 tags
“Somewhere the flower of farewell is blooming.
Endlessly it yields its pollen,...”
– Rainer Maria Rilke from A Year With Rilke, Dec 31
2 tags
2011
Winter of deer and foxes, fog and snow, frozen-in-time hours by the window to the woods. The Secret History, new work, New York.
Spring of loss. First blossoms and a bitter flight across the Pacific. Lonely, nervous weeks in Australia. Rainbows, crystals, fish&chips, and books in bed.
Summer of storms, of the Virginian heat, of wind whipping through hair. Lightning, thunder, crash-pangs of...
2 tags
What Are You Doing New Years Eve? by Zooey...
4 tags
1 tag
2 tags
“For the sake of one line of poetry, one must see many cities, people, and...”
– Rainer Maria Rilke, The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge
1 tag
1 tag
Cleaning out old things and making space for the new, I was caught off-guard by the heartache of it. Grieving over lost times, people, dreams. All gone forever. Forever.
2 tags
1 tag
One thing I like about Christmas Eve is that everybody’s got a little bit of glitter on their face.
1 tag
Download 'A History of Lost Things' here. →
inherwar: The most precious little zine. Truly.
