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#tateve simonyan
metamorphesque · a month ago
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— a prayer, tathève simonyan
[text ID: a prayer / i look up at God and see my ceiling staring back at me. / whimpered prayers leaving through the gates of my lips, ricocheting and landing right onto my eyes. / now everything i see is tainted with the colors of my pending longings. / a desire so raw you could still see the specks of blood gathering at seams. / a prayer … / a man on his knees in front of a woman, hands on her hips, holding the cathedral that was neither built nor can be destroyed / lips kissing the source of life / lips kissing the source of light / lips kissing / a   prayer! – a body to crawl into! (to grow into?) / a prayer! – a dead language we refuse to let go of, / a language of the dead that we refuse to let go of / a prayer! – Grandpa’s favorite tie, hanging from the bedroom door, decades after he passed / because my Grandma was the only one of us who knew what a prayer was / a prayer! – Grandma: “sitting with someone until they finish their meal is the purest sign of love” / a prayer! – i’ll sit with you till the very last sip, till the very last grain / a prayer! – a hymn to the Sun written by the coldest of hands / a prayer! – a mouth full of tongues that can never find the right language to weep in / Rage, that is love – rotten! / Rage, that is desire – rotten! / Rage! – like a prayer, unanswered, ricocheting from your ceiling and landing right onto your eyes, never quite reaching where it was meant to.]
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metamorphesque · a month ago
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— a girl is a haunted house, tathève simonyan
[text ID: I was born from a mother, like you, / Wearing nothing but the pride of innocence, / Wrapped in my blissful indifference, / But I couldn’t scream like you / And I couldn’t cry like you / And I couldn’t smile like you. / I grew up enchained to these walls, like you, / Filled with nothing but a promise of excellence / (What a merciless fraudulence!) / But I couldn’t walk like you / And I couldn’t talk like you / And I couldn’t keep the child in me alive like you. / Your existence in this world seems so effortless, / Yet I struggle to lure each breath in. / And at night, when this itch of my skin / Softly whispers that I’ll never win / Even trying alone seems so meaningless.]
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metamorphesque · 2 months ago
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— august, tathève simonyan
[text ID: promises made by june / had rotten / by the time august came. / i’ve mistaken silence with nothingness / and unlearning it asks for courage / i know not how to muster. / this half-empty glass of orange juice, / ever-present on its throne of dust, / on this wooden table, / holds more promise than i ever will. / i, a personified you, for this is not a wall but a mirror / [personified] / i, i mean you, i mean [redacted] / you eat the sun and with your burnt tongue / try to sing songs / not about pain. / don’t you? / in july / [i] you tried to stretch the rare / moments of happiness but our feet / always seemed to stay out of the / blanket / uncovered. / how do i love something without / fully succumbing to it? / you thought you had to die for you to live, didn’t you? / you thought there’s always a spring after a winter / you didn’t think that / this vivaldian symphony hadn’t been written for bodies like ours, . did you? / in july / you didn’t know that loneliness is a crowded town / yet /  it’s always been bestowed upon you / to lock the gates / and turn off the lights / every night, / did you? / june made promises it knew it couldn’t keep. / but i shall be wiser / in august.]
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metamorphesque · a month ago
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— a girl is a haunted house, tathève simonyan
[text ID: “This is me”, he whispers and I can feel the breath of his fist on my virgin cheekbone. / “This is me”, his voice is clearer, “do you take me as I am?” / But all I can think of is how my mother invented helplessness to raise my father up. / I refuse to build a throne on my head for another man.]
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metamorphesque · 4 months ago
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— Tathève Simonyan, Colourless Musings
[text ID: In my corner of the world, killing is a love language.]
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metamorphesque · a month ago
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— clair de lune, tathève simonyan         
[text ID: i want a “waking up naked under dusty pink silky sheets” scene: / sunlights of hair cascading over the ivory of my back / untethered strands connecting beauty marks / my own constellation of starlight / and as the morning light sashays in / through the cracks / of this chain of blinds / and as this body of mine / welcomes in blues and yellows / there’s a sense of promise / dancing in the air / that’s not going anywhere. / i want a scene of / hands reaching for a door / not for a cover / for in this particular scene / there’s a body that wants to have me in it / and an i who wants to be in this body / i want this symbiotic bliss / this harmonious coexistence / of two opposing forces / reaching for the same door. / [i want debussy playing in the background] / hands reaching for a cup, hands boiling water, hands adding / a spoonful of coffee / hands never burning / hands running through hair / like wild horses / blindly unbounded / like leaves / succumbing to the breath of the wind / but in a good way / because succumbing oneself / doesn’t have to end with a death / not always / at least not when you can hear / clair de lune / softly whispering from the living room. / i want scenes with hands: / hands all over / all the time / hands that love / without a reason and with (one) / because it’s spring / because it’s no longer spring / because they are hands and that’s what they were made to do / because debussy is playing / and what else can one do / but love / unabashedly / with van gogh yellows / and picasso blues / and monet violets / and / i want a scene where / my name is no longer an unintended apology / but a silent promise / like the morning light / dancing in the air / painting its blue hues / yellow in its blues. / i want a scene where / my existence is a reason / and not an afterthought. / i want a scene of me not wanting any of these. / scenes of me naked under dusty pink silky sheets / waiting for the morning light / and knowing that it will come.]
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metamorphesque · 8 months ago
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— Tatève Simonyan
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metamorphesque · 8 months ago
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— Tatève Simonyan
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metamorphesque · a year ago
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i want to start reading, where should I begin ? :)
First and foremost, just know that it's going to change your life and your relationship with it.
Secondly, do not feel feel uneasy or discouraged if your first shot at it doesn't make you fall in love with reading. It will only mean that you haven't found your book yet.
If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't take a long classic (*cough* russian literature *cough*) as a first stepping stone.
Instead, try one of these:
The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller (if this one doesn't make you fall head over heels with reading ... *** also, don't worry if you haven't read "The Iliad", Madeline Miller takes your hand and patiently walks you through every room, giving backstories for every character.)
The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab (I'm aware that this is a thick one, but trust me, you'll fly through the pages. To me, it was quite fast-pace, yet had the right amount of depth to keep you emotionally invested. Are some aspects of this book problematic? Yup. Is it a textbook example of eurocentrism? Yes. But still I think it's worth reading.)
The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid (no words, love, no words)
Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz (simply the sweetest book I've ever had the honor to read)
Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi (reading this book smells like cinnamon buns and hot chocolate (or warm coffee)
Yolk by Mary H.K. Choi (filled with contemporary references, feels like that moment when you've slipped on something and are waiting for the fall *which isn't coming** and smells like early 20s struggles)
The Woman in the Purple Skirt by Natsuko Imamura (very strange, yet absolutely captivating)
The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka (okay, hear me out. I'm not just recommending this because I am biased and Kafka is the love of my life. I DO really think that this book is peculiarly interesting enough to keep you engaged and impactful enough to make you read Kafka's other works)
The Secret History by Donna Tartt (it's either love or hate with this one)
On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong ( Am I recommending this book because I am Tateve Simonyan and they are Ocean Vuong? Yes. Is it one of (if not the) most beautiful accumulation of words you'll ever read? Yes.)
The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky (I read this one at the age of 14 and remember not being able to put it down. Additionally, it's filled with wonderful music recommendations.)
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley (need I say more?)
Perhaps you'd better start with short stories?
Men Without Women by Haruki Murakami
The Secret Lives of Church Ladies by Deesha Philyaw
A Manual for Cleaning Women by Lucia Berlin
People From My Neighbourhood by Hiromi Kawakami
Where the Wild Ladies Are by Aoko Matsuda
Or maybe you'd like some poetry books?
Crush by Richard Siken
War of the Foxes by Richard Siken
Night Sky with Exit Wounds by Ocean Vuong
Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth by Warsan Shire
Deaf Republic by Ilya Kaminsky
If I Don't Know by Wendy Cope
Now, buckle up, love, cuz you're in for a wild ride 🌼
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metamorphesque · a year ago
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sorry to be a bother - but what books would you recommend to someone just starting out in literature?
If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t take a long classic (*cough* russian literature *cough*) as a first stepping stone.
Instead, try one of these:
The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller (if this one doesn’t make you fall head over heels with reading … *** also, don’t worry if you haven’t read “The Iliad”, Madeline Miller takes your hand and patiently walks you through every room, giving backstories for every character.)
The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab (I’m aware that this is a thick one, but trust me, you’ll fly through the pages. To me, it was quite fast-pace, yet had the right amount of depth to keep you emotionally invested. Are some aspects of this book problematic? Yup. Is it a textbook example of eurocentrism? Yes. But still I think it’s worth reading.)
The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid (no words, love, no words)
Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz (simply the sweetest book I’ve ever had the honor to read)
Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi (reading this book smells like cinnamon buns and hot chocolate (or warm coffee)
Yolk by Mary H.K. Choi (filled with contemporary references, feels like that moment when you’ve slipped on something and are waiting for the fall *which isn’t coming** and smells like early 20s struggles)
The Woman in the Purple Skirt by Natsuko Imamura (very strange, yet absolutely captivating)
The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka (okay, hear me out. I’m not just recommending this because I am biased and Kafka is the love of my life. I DO really think that this book is peculiarly interesting enough to keep you engaged and impactful enough to make you read Kafka’s other works)
The Secret History by Donna Tartt (it’s either love or hate with this one)
On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong ( Am I recommending this book because I am Tateve Simonyan and they are Ocean Vuong? Yes. Is it one of (if not the) most beautiful accumulation of words you’ll ever read? Yes.)
The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky (I read this one at the age of 14 and remember not being able to put it down. Additionally, it’s filled with wonderful music recommendations.)
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley (need I say more?)
Perhaps you’d better start with short stories?
Men Without Women by Haruki Murakami
The Secret Lives of Church Ladies by Deesha Philyaw
A Manual for Cleaning Women by Lucia Berlin
People From My Neighbourhood by Hiromi Kawakami
Where the Wild Ladies Are by Aoko Matsuda
Or maybe you’d like some poetry books?
Crush by Richard Siken
War of the Foxes by Richard Siken
Night Sky with Exit Wounds by Ocean Vuong
Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth by Warsan Shire
Deaf Republic by Ilya Kaminsky
If I Don’t Know by Wendy Cope
Now, buckle up, love, cuz you’re in for a wild ride 🌼
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