Tumgik
dk-thrive · 1 hour
Text
Always, he took care of me.
— Amy Lin, Here After: A Memoir by Amy Lin (Zibby Books, March 5, 2024)
3 notes · View notes
dk-thrive · 4 hours
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Twilight. 46° F, with fog and rain. 5:35 to 6:00 am. March 28, 2024. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. (@dkct25)
7 notes · View notes
dk-thrive · 5 hours
Text
You don’t want to hear the story of my life, and anyway I don’t want to tell it, I want to listen to the enormous waterfalls of the sun. And anyway it’s the same old story– a few people just trying, one way or another, to survive. Mostly, I want to be kind. And nobody, of course, is kind, or mean, for a simple reason. And nobody gets out of it, having to swim through the fires to stay in this world.
— Mary Oliver, from "Dogfish" in “New and Selected Poems" (Beacon Press, 1992) (via Make Believe Boutique)
9 notes · View notes
dk-thrive · 8 hours
Text
The bed was uncomfortable. I was heavy. I was bricks. Above the bed, the ceiling and the stars. Below the bed the floor, the earth, then out the other side and stars. I fell in all directions.
— Richard Siken, from "I Do Know Some Things" (2025) from an excerpt in Bomb Magazine, March 15, 2024. Siken began writing while recovering his language, mobility, and sense of self in the aftermath of a stroke. (via Alive on All Channels)
3 notes · View notes
dk-thrive · 15 hours
Text
What might be wind. What might be breath. What is already gone.
— Amy Lin, Here After: A Memoir by Amy Lin (Zibby Books, March 5, 2024)
11 notes · View notes
dk-thrive · 16 hours
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Double Rainbow
Tumblr media
Double Rainbow. 6:46 pm. March 27 2024. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. (@dkct25)
63 notes · View notes
dk-thrive · 19 hours
Text
It is not that I don’t know I love him, it is that I want to see around the corner of the universe, to know it will all last.
For the first year Kurtis and I date, I keep asking RJ: How do you know if you love somebody? It is not that I don’t know I love him, it is that I want to see around the corner of the universe, to know it will all last.
— Amy Lin, Here After: A Memoir by Amy Lin (Zibby Books, March 5, 2024)
3 notes · View notes
dk-thrive · 22 hours
Text
Afraid to live, afraid to die, afraid of how much there is to fear: it all rushes through my body.
— Amy Lin, Here After: A Memoir by Amy Lin (Zibby Books, March 5, 2024)
9 notes · View notes
dk-thrive · 1 day
Text
We would never say goodbye. He always said, See you soon, and I always responded, Be safe, love you.
— Amy Lin, Here After: A Memoir by Amy Lin (Zibby Books, March 5, 2024)
7 notes · View notes
dk-thrive · 1 day
Text
Tumblr media
Twilight. 40° F. 6:55 am. March 27, 2024. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. (@dkct25)
135 notes · View notes
dk-thrive · 1 day
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Twilight. 40° F. 5:45 to 6:00 am. March 27, 2024. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. (@dkct25)
37 notes · View notes
dk-thrive · 1 day
Text
Arranging a bowl of flowers in the morning can give a sense of quiet in a crowded day - like writing a poem or saying a prayer
— Anne Morrow Lindbergh, “Gift from the Sea” (Pantheon Books, 1955)
37 notes · View notes
dk-thrive · 1 day
Text
I have become someone I do not understand, that others do not understand. I do not know the right way to be anymore.
— Amy Lin, Here After: A Memoir by Amy Lin (Zibby Books, March 5, 2024)
23 notes · View notes
dk-thrive · 2 days
Text
This tenderness I want but do not know how to receive.
Amy, he says gently. He reaches out to touch me. I recoil, not from him, but from what he is offering. This tenderness I want but do not know how to receive.
— Amy Lin, Here After: A Memoir by Amy Lin (Zibby Books, March 5, 2024)
9 notes · View notes
dk-thrive · 2 days
Text
In another life, he tells me one time. I become a musician first...
Kurtis sits for hours in his study playing music, headphones on, instruments plugged in, sheet music displayed on his tablet. In another life, he tells me one time. I become a musician first...
He asks me if I will listen to what he has been working on. I listen to him play and feel knots unfurl in my body that I do not know I am tied up in...
Some evenings, I fall asleep listening to Kurtis play acoustic guitar on the side of our bed. Other times, after I buy him a banjo, he gives me a one-man-show; he plays the banjo, the harmonica, the tambourine. He sings about slow dancing, about growing old, about the wind and the rain.
— Amy Lin, Here After: A Memoir by Amy Lin (Zibby Books, March 5, 2024)
7 notes · View notes
dk-thrive · 2 days
Text
You are here...You are still here.
— Amy Lin, Here After: A Memoir by Amy Lin (Zibby Books, March 5, 2024)
10 notes · View notes
dk-thrive · 2 days
Text
In March the earth remembers its own name. Everywhere the plates of snow are cracking. The rivers begin to sing. In the sky the winter stars are sliding away; new stars appear as, later, small blades of grain will shine in the dark fields. And the name of every place is joyful.
— Mary Oliver, from "Worm Moon" in “Twelve Moons” (via Alive on All Channels)
47 notes · View notes