Latest Posts by moominnie11 - Page 2
んにゃわけにゃいにゃ
also a poem from the new, unreleased collection. very possibly my own all-time favourite.
readings: essays & articles
reassuring ghosts and haunted houses
fish recorded singing dawn chorus on reefs just like birds
what people around the world dream about
poet and philosopher david whyte on anger, forgiveness, and what maturity really means
oranges are orange, salmon are salmon
how memories persist where bodies and even brains do not
the avant-garde musical legacy of the moomins
the weight of our living: on hope, fire escapes, and visible desperation
disturbed minds and disruptive bodies
what is better ー a happy life or a meaningful one?
after my dad died, i started sending him emails. months later, someone wrote me back
on the igbo art of storytelling
what the caves are trying to tell us
promethean beasts — how animal uses of fire help illuminate human pyrocognition
the art of loving and losing female friends
on memorizing poetry
the ecological imagination of hayao miyazaki
reading in the age of constant distraction
holly warburton illustrates tender moments of love and light
romancing the fig: what one fruit can tell us about love, life and human civilization
mystery and birds: 5 ways to practice poetry
can a plant remember? this one seems to — here's the evidence
why female cannibals frighten and fascinate
when you give a tree an email adress
fear not — horror movies build community and emotional resilience
getting to that time of the year where the sun will straight up project childhood memories onto your bedroom wall at about 3 or 4 pm
born to be an abstract concept, forced to be a percievable entity
The Bridge
It's hard to keep my arms stretched.
Nobody asks me to let go,
Nobody steps into the river.
and all i loved, i loved alone
"There is a stranger outside your house. He is old, ragged and dirty. He is tired. He has been wandering, homeless, for a long time, perhaps many years. Invite him inside. You do not know his name. He may be a thief. He may be a murderer. He may be a god. He may remind you of your husband, your father or yourself. Do not ask questions. Wait. Let him sit on a comfortable chair and warm himself beside your fire. Bring him some food the best you have, and a cup of wine. Let him eat and drink until he is satisfied. Be patient. When he is finished, he will tell his story. Listen carefully. It may not be as you expect."
~ Translator's Note ; The Odyssey (trl by Emily Wilson)
— Clementine Von Radics, from In A Dream You Saw A Way To Survive; "The Fear" (via lunamonchtuna)
Acespec Jiang Cheng writers, you are doing the world a service. I have never felt more seen than when people give this man all the complicated feelings that come along with ace-ness: The embarassment at feeling 'left behind' by peers, the want to Want, the worry that your partner is suffering silently because you can't give those things others can, the confusion and discomfort. Gosh. He's the one character I feel is always written so raw when he's written acespec, maybe especially because he's really bad at platonic relationships, so is never in the 'well he has other kinds of love to make up for it' the way other acespec characters in fiction often do. I don't even have a point here really. Just... yeah acespec Jiang Cheng you have my entire heart and soul okay?
˚˖𓍢ִ 🌷 ˚ pink & green pngs — free to use !! no credits needed ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
cant stop thinking about this this was sooo crazyyyyy
𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔬𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔰
˚˖𓍢ִ 🧸 ˚ us as plushies pngs
— natalie wee, never been kissed (via letsbelonelytogetherr)
𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔩𝔶 𝔥𝔞𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡
Tiles, Gustav Klimt
wax seal stamp pngs ♡