Joan E. Biren – Eye to Eye: Portraits of Lesbians (1979)

Painted clay oven in Auly, Dnipro Region, early XXth century

Edgar Henri Marie Aristide Maxence, pintor simbolista francés.

"Love and hate, despair, pity, rage, disgust—what are these amidst the fornications of the planets? What is war, disease, cruelty, terror, when night presents the ecstasy of myriad blazing suns? What is this chaff we chew in our sleep if it is not the remembrance of fang-whorl and star cluster?"

— Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer, 1934

«Palessie»– Jury Vasiljeŭ (1983)

Reflexiología (Parte 3)

Destino

“Neste século, a história parou de dar atenção à velha orientação psicológica da realidade. O que eu quero dizer é que, hoje em dia, a personalidade não é mais um destino. A economia é destino. A ideologia é destino. Bombas são destino. Que importa para a fome, para a câmara de gás, para uma granada, a maneira como você viveu sua vida? Vem a crise, vem a morte, e o seu patético eu individual não tem nada a ver com isso, sofre os efeitos apenas.”

Salman Rushdie, “Os Versículos Satânicos”; fotografia de Vivian Maier.

Jean-Eugène Buland - Bonheur des parents (1903)

Comme la boîte du conte, un livre n'est pas seulement un fragment du monde mais un petit monde lui-même. Le livre est une miniaturisation du monde, habitée par le lecteur.

SONTAG, Susan, “Sous le signe de Saturne” (1978), trad. Brigitte Legars, dans Sous le signe de Saturne, Christian Bourgois, 2013, 978-2-267-02482-1, p. 43.

Rudolph Tegner – In the Embrace of Darkness (1915)

Young woman from Bohodukhiv, Kharkiv Region, early XXth century

"Dread and longing. Deep in the blood the pull of Paradise. The beyond. Always the beyond. It must have all started with the navel. They cut the umbilical cord, give you a slap on the ass, and presto! you're out in the world, adrift, a ship without a rudder. You look at the stars and then you look at your navel. You grow eyes everywhere—in the armpits, between your lips, in the roots of your hair, on the soles of your feet. What is distant becomes near, what is near becomes distant. Inner-outer, a constant flux, a shedding of skins, a turning inside out. You drift around like that for years and years, until you find yourself in the dead center, and there you slowly rot, slowly crumble to pieces, get dispersed again. Only your name remains."

— Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer, 1934

A good old russian tradition of erasing Gogol's Ukrainian identity

🌻🌟ahah 😳

«Damy i drevy» (Houses and trees) – Izrail Basaŭ (1972)