The distance between two points increases over time. Disconnecting and fragmenting their connections… But there is a gorgeousness that exists in this, like pale water colours over solid black lines. It will always linger, but it becomes a part of you, for better or worse, keeping you who you are and marking you with scars like brands you can never escape or change but must always grow with. I believe in so many things, but that doesn’t make them passions. So why don’t you tell me who you are? ~ Anne Carson

Photo by Kalle Gustafsson

For the first time in his life he realized a girl completely as something opposite and complementary to him, and he was subject to a warm chill of mingled pleasure and pain… The summer afternoon became lost in her suddenly – the soft air, the shadowy hedges and banks of flowers, the orange sunlight, the laughter and voices, the tinkle of a piano over the way – the odor left all these things and went into her face as she sat there looking up at him with a smile. For a moment it was too much for him.
F. Scott Fitzgerald

I closed my eyes and felt you watching me thinking of you, looking through me as I stared back, which is exactly what making love should be like. ~ Bob Hicok (Photo by Magnus Magnusson)

As they grow intimate the space between them during the day grows larger. She likes the distance he leaves her, the space he assumes is their right. It gives each of them a private energy, a code of air between them when he passes below her window without a word.
Michael Ondaatje

Search out the secret pursuit of thy desire; then thou shalt not live in illusion. What canst thou know of happiness, if in the veil of misery thou hast not walked? What canst thou know of freedom, if against thy bondage thou hast not cried aloud? What canst thou know of love, if from the entanglement of love thou hast not sought deliverance? I saw the flowers blossom in the dark hours of a still night. ~ Jiddu Krishnamurti

A pretty song from the complications of loving you, I think there is no end or return. No answer, no coming out of it. Which is the only way to love, isn’t it? This isn’t a playground, this is earth, our heaven, for a while. Therefore I have given precedence to all my sudden, sullen, dark moods that hold you in the center of my world… And I say to my fingers, type me a pretty song. And I say to my heart: Rave on… ~ Mary Oliver

The wind blows through the doors of my heart. It scatters my sheet music that climbs like waves from the piano, free of the keys. Now the notes stripped, black butterflies, flattened against the screens. The wind through my heart blows all my candles out. ~ Deborah Digges (Photo by Thanassis Krikis)

This is the Nonsense of Love


Our kiss is a secret handshake, a password.
We love like spies, like bruised prize fighters,
like children building tree houses.

Our love is serious business.
One look from you and my spine
reincarnates as kite string.

When I hesitate to hold your hand,
it is because to know is to be responsible for knowing.


There is no clean way to enter
the heavy machinery of the heart.

Just jagged cutthroat questions.
Just the glitter and blood production.


The truth is this:
My love for you is the only empire
I will ever build.

When it falls,
as all empires do,
my career in empire building will be over.

I will retreat to an island.
I will dabble in the vacation-hut industry.
I will skulk about the private libraries and public parks.

I will fold the clean clothes.
I will wash the dishes.
I will never again dream of having the whole world.
Mindy Nettifee

Photo for Fillipa K

You say: evasive,
it won’t hold water, a sieve vs. vase,
vis-à-vis; I’ve saved all the best truths for this (the truth) : A nightlong longing for a night of lying with you. I do the next best thing: a glance (glancing)
(it contains all I want to contain)
Forgive the shy, the away.
If truth be told, I can’t be true.
Hannah Sanghee Park

Please, consider me a dream. ~  Franz Kafka