Confidence is Tragic, Intuition: Magic

Music. Still photos. Poetry. Prose.

It seems as if we have feigned a willingness to learn by paying for an education.


When the day is creeping up on us and we must put in order the chaos of the night.
Stand guard once more, ready for life.
A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is a profound secret and mystery to every other.

Until that secret is given to another to look after. And then perhaps two creatures may know each other.

—The Invisible Woman


There is no way or words that I could possibly begin with to describe exhaustion. It had concealed itself to me through a million disguises for which I find difficult to unveil. For one, it has disguised itself through what I thought might be my happiness, leading me to places where I thought I could find rest. It would hold my hand and then we would begin to walk.
And walk.
Sometimes running.
Then walking again.
Tired from the journey, we would sometimes arrive at a destination, somewhere warm, almost cozy and it in turn would project itself through the sun. Its warmth would embrace my face with a temporary solace until it seeped deep within my skin until it could not be endured anymore. Even the shade did not provide relief from the torment of the scorching sun. And as I did before, I become convinced by exhaustion to leave and walk again without really recovering from the previous journey.

Truth be told, I am weary from all this traveling. I am worn out from settling down in destinations I thought would provide me some sort of refuge. Exhaustion has revealed to me that there is indeed no place to run to or to hide in and beyond that, I have forgotten the sensations attributed to appreciation and satisfaction.

The suffering touched me too early,
I have burned myself out,
I am the bright ash without desire.
Now, only the silence endures dearly,
When I am still standing in the fire.

—Grażyna Chrostowska, Ravensbrück   (via mirroir)

(Source: fables-of-the-reconstruction, via loklupau)