“When I am feeling dreary, annoyed, and generally unimpressed by life, I imagine what it would be like to come back to this world for just a day after having been dead. I imagine how sentimental I would feel about the very things I once found stupid, hateful, or mundane. Oh, there’s a light switch! I haven’t seen a light switch in how long! I didn’t realize how much I missed light switches! Oh! Oh! And look– the stairs up to our front porch are still completely cracked! Hello cracks! Let me get a good look at you. And there’s my neighbor, standing there, fantastically alive, just the same, still punctuating her sentences with you know what I’m saying? Why did that bother me? It’s so…endearing.”
— RETURNING TO LIFE AFTER BEING DEAD Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life, Amy Krouse Rosenthal (via podencos)
“I felt once more how simple and frugal a thing is happiness: a glass of wine, a roast chestnut, a wretched little brazier, the sound of the sea. Nothing else. And all that is required to feel that here and now is happiness is a simple, frugal heart.”
— Nikos Kazantzakis, tr. by Carl Wildman, from “Zorba the Greek,” wr. c. 1946
I mean it, I’d give anything to stay.
Just for that—and sudden trees
and common music and the dark and gentle
fact of being touchable. Because
the world is beautiful, and contains
the people I love, and who
would be tenderer with them?
— Maya Owen, from “Not So Long Ago, Girls Like Me Were Given Lobotomies,” published in Muzzle
I used to cast my hurt along the road;
it always came home hungry, begging
that I take its pulse and treat it well.
I learned to plant my hurt, to till it with a hoe,
to harvest hurt, buckets, pockets full
to carry hurt close to my heart, to bite
straight into hurt, to swallow hurting whole.
— Emily Pérez, from “Clutch,” House of Sugar, House of Stone