haunting
I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.
—Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
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blood guts and chocolate cake
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current obsessions include: checking his snap maps, wolf alice, chic diet, fur headbands, skipping class, gossip girl, mads mikkelsen
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when he sang,
the computer screens and piano symphonies
faded.
until there was nothing but bittersweet melodies
and i couldn’t help but think,
this is it.
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Mahmoud Darwish, tr. by Fady Joudah, from The Butterfly’s Burden; “We walk on the bridge”
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