theparisreview:

Praise for a Color
Yellow infers from itself papayas and their pulp,penetrable yellow.At noon: bees, sweet stinger and honey.Whole eggs and their nucleus, the ovum.This interior thing, miniscule.From the blackness of the blind viscera,hot and yellow, the miniscule speck,the luminous grain.Yellow spreads and smooths, a downpourof the pure light of its name,tropicordial.Yellow turns on, turns up the heat,a charmed flute,an oboe in Bach.Yellow engenders.
—Adélia Prado. Art: Helen Frankenthaler.

theparisreview:

Praise for a Color

Yellow infers from itself papayas and their pulp,
penetrable yellow.
At noon: bees, sweet stinger and honey.
Whole eggs and their nucleus, the ovum.
This interior thing, miniscule.
From the blackness of the blind viscera,
hot and yellow, the miniscule speck,
the luminous grain.
Yellow spreads and smooths, a downpour
of the pure light of its name,
tropicordial.
Yellow turns on, turns up the heat,
a charmed flute,
an oboe in Bach.
Yellow engenders.

Adélia Prado. Art: Helen Frankenthaler.

Ever finished a book? I mean, truly finished one? Cover to cover. Closed the spine with that slow awakening that comes with reentering consciousness?

You take a breath, deep from the bottom of your lungs and sit there. Book in both hands, your head staring down at the cover, back page or wall in front of you.

You’re grateful, thoughtful, pensive. You feel like a piece of you was just gained and lost. You’ve just experienced something deep, something intimate… Full from the experience, the connection, the richness that comes after digesting another soul.

[…]

It’s no surprise that readers are better people. Having experienced someone else’s life through abstract eyes, they’ve learned what it’s like to leave their bodies and see the world through other frames of reference. They have access to hundreds of souls, and the collected wisdom of all them.

Beautiful read on why readers are, “scientifically,” the best people to date

Perhaps Kafka’s timeless contention that books are "the axe for the frozen sea inside us" applies equally to the frozen sea between us. 

(via explore-blog)

[On soft Spring nights I’ll stand in the yard under the stars - Something good will come out of all things yet - And it will be golden and eternal just like that] - There’s no need to say another word.

—Jack Kerouac, from Big Sur (via the-final-sentence)

And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone.

—W. B. Yeatsfrom “The Wanderings of Oisin,” in The Wanderings of Oisin and Other Poems (Kegan Paul and Co., 1889)

If fate doesn’t make you laugh, you just don’t get the joke.

—Gregory David Roberts (via observando)

It’s beautiful.

It’s beautiful.

(Source: Flickr / urbanpirate)

weekendplaylist:

heavenly father // bon iver (6/30/14)

I feel like walking, do you feel like coming?

potentialitea:

Fishing net making in Mekong Delta, Vietnam.

potentialitea:

Fishing net making in Mekong Delta, Vietnam.