Resurrection music, silence, and surf
No longer speaking
Listening with the whole body
And with every drop of blood
Overtaken by silence
But this same silence is become speech
With the speed of darkness.
Between between
the man : act exact
woman : in curve senses in their maze
frail orbits, green tries, games of stars
shape of the body speaking its evidence
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Poetry: Muriel Rukeyser, (I, II, V) from The Speed of Darkness
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Osmar Schindler, Germanic warrior with helmet (1902)
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La femme au couteau (The Woman With a Knife, 1969), dir. Timité Bassori
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Statue of the goddess Nike of Samothraki.
Currently held by the Louvre Museum.
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– Ansel Elkins, “Autobiography of Eve”
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– Franny Choi, from ‘Catastrophe Is Next To Godliness’
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On his birthday.
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Edward Quigley, Gelatin Silver Print, 1930
Allan Chasanoff Photographic Collection
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[...] we lay on the river-bank, learning the lines of each other's bodies anew. This, and this and this. We were like gods, at the dawning of the world, and our joy was so bright we could see nothing else but the other.
Madeline Miller, from The Song of Achilles
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I focused on my breathing, you were allowed to do that. You could even count the breaths. And then at the end you could just think about anything, anything you wanted, but after five minutes of counting my breath, I didn’t want to think. My mind felt empty, like the inside of a glass jar. I was appropriating my fear of total disappearance as a spiritual practice. I was inhabiting disappearance as something that could reveal and inform, rather than totalise and annihilate. A lot of the time my meditation was unsuccessful.
Sally Rooney, “Conversations With Friends”
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Most of our childhood is stored not in photos, but in certain biscuits, lights of day, smells, textures of carpet.
Alain de Botton, Twitter (2014)
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She wonders if / he is listening too. The cruel thing is, she falls asleep / listening.
Anne Carson, from “Autobiography of Red”
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Sometimes a journey makes itself necessary.
Anne Carson, “Autobiography of Red”
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– Jamaica Kincaid from Lucy
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Mincéiri women and children and their decorated caravan on route to Cahirmee Horse Fair
Elinor Wiltshire, Buttevant, Co. Cork, July 1954
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That the world I was in could be soft, lovely, and nourishing was more than I could bear, and so I stood there and wept, for I didn't want to love one more thing in my life, didn't want one more thing that could make my heart break into a million little pieces at my feet. But all the same, there it was, and I could not do much about it; for even I could see that I was too young for real bitterness, real regret, real hard-heartedness.
Jamaica Kincaid from Lucy
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