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{Alice Oseman, Radio Silence/ Emily Palermo, from Untitled/ Franz Kafka, from Diaries/ Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar/ Marya Hornbacher, Waiting/ Nikos Kazantzakis, from a letter to Galatea Kazantzaki wr. c. May 1922/ Mahmoud Darwish/ Anna Akhmatova, from The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova; "The Old Portrait"/ Lyric Hunter, from "A Garden," Swallower/ Albert Camus/ Varsha/ Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Meek One}
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Love letter from 1913 that opens up to form an art gallery.
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Marry Ellen Mark. Tommie peeking out of her room, Ward 81, Oregon State Hospital. Salem, Oregon, 1976.
Follow my new AI-related project «Collective memories»
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These few days, I've forgotten things a lot. Sometimes something small, sometimes something salty. Always coming up with beautiful things to write down, maybe a good short story, or just a beautiful line that crossed my mind in disguise of a poem's verse. But this lethargic energy, the propensity to consume the reels culture, and then losing the interest to write things down whenever something passes through the thoughts- it's depriving me of making beautiful things. Beautiful things for myself, like a flower vase for my thoughts.
৯৮.১৯% পূর্ণিমার আলোতে দাঁড়িয়ে 'আকাশে আজ পুরো পূর্ণিমা ' এই বিষয়ে বাজি ধরে হেরে যাবার পর যখন সিগারেটে ঠোঁট চেপে ভেবে দেখলাম, এখনও তোমাকে হারাই নি, তখন বুঝলাম এখনও তবে গরীব হতে ঢেড় বাকি। তাই পরদিন, ভরা চাঁদের আলোয় তোমায় শিখালাম আদরের নামতা।
I'm sure, on that very day of 98.19% full moon night, I had a better line to write down. But here I am, reminiscing about the wrong lines.
Dhaka, 3 days after the full moon, 2023.
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Audrey Hepburn on the set of Sabrina, 1954
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Bette Davis on the set of Now, Voyager (1942).
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Buck: *calls eddie* hey, are you busy right now?
Eddie: a little bit, why?
Buck: oh no worries, nothing important
*later*
Eddie: you were in JAIL? why didnt you say anything?!
Buck: you were busy!
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