"Homesickness"
René Magritte, 1940
1) I constantly had to remind myself that this is not my life. My eight hour job cannot define me. My brain dead mornings should not keep me from watching the sunrise. The three hours I spend working overtime cannot eat what is left of my existence. This is not my real life.
2) Four days ago, I wanted to disappear forever. Yesterday I no longer felt like leaving. I wonder if it's because I am content or simply too tired to go anywhere.
3) I believe in equilibrium, in the notion of stability, and it's illusions. It is a comforting kind of lie.
4) Truth scolds the ignorant. Some of us have never recovered.
5) I honestly just live to read. Perhaps even sometimes write.
6) What do you want out of life?
7) Save room for people, places, and events. Trust me. You'll never want to run out of things to look forward to.
8) I miss sleeping at night.
9) I don' know which is worse: The failure to forget a painful moment, or the failure to recall what it was that made you feel alive.
10) Now and then, I have to remind myself I am afraid to die.
11) This life is excruciatingly long and short at the same time.
13) Tell me why you're tired.
14) There is no way we're born to wait for weekends, buy shit to pretend it makes us happy, pay bills, and die.
15) And the city insists on defining me.
16) "Cruel is the gospel that sets us all free and takes you away from me." - Prefab Sprout
17) I stopped watching or reading the news.
18) Does your happiness outweigh your misery? Out of five instances, how often?
19) I will never get tired of finding beauty where it shouldn't be.
20) Don't go out too long without music.
21) What are you waiting for?
Showing posts with label Rene Magritte. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rene Magritte. Show all posts
Friday, July 17, 2015
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
The Dark House of Light
The tree covered the view
To windows on the top floor
As two lower windows opened
To see the silver lake. In broad
Daylight, this flowing mirror
Illuminated the brightness
Of the moon not in attendance.
A desolate dwelling dimly drawn
Notice the interminable dusk
Casted upon its white walls:
Discrete shadows, a singular lamp
Post, tranquil radiance striking
The eye, a strange harmony
Oblivious to the cerulean sky.
The residence enveloped by woods
Long thriving in isolation
Housing unseen creatures beneath
Wide branches, dark limbs, lofty roots
Inching deeper into the earth.
After Magritte
To windows on the top floor
As two lower windows opened
To see the silver lake. In broad
Daylight, this flowing mirror
Illuminated the brightness
Of the moon not in attendance.
A desolate dwelling dimly drawn
Notice the interminable dusk
Casted upon its white walls:
Discrete shadows, a singular lamp
Post, tranquil radiance striking
The eye, a strange harmony
Oblivious to the cerulean sky.
The residence enveloped by woods
Long thriving in isolation
Housing unseen creatures beneath
Wide branches, dark limbs, lofty roots
Inching deeper into the earth.
After Magritte
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