l'ange & l'démon

Sep 27 18460

lulilak

Sep 27 14779

aqua-regia009

Details from The Chariot of Death, 1848 - oil on canvas.
— Théophile Schuler (French, 1821-1878)
aqua-regia009 art edits

Sep 27 15

desamorce

Être toujours insatisfait, est-ce une forme d’égoïsme ou bien de ne pas avoir encore trouvé ce qu’il nous fallait.

Être toujours à la recherche de mieux, en oubliant ce que l’on avait.

Ne plus pouvoir chiffrer ses envies alors qu’on possède déjà tellement.

Jul 19 59521

x3nshit

one thing i need to start living by is “become the thing that you want” if i want friends who throw themed parties maybe i should start throwing those parties. if i want someone who writes me love letters maybe i should start writing letters for the people i love. if i want to hang out at museums and pretty cafes maybe i should invite my friends to these places. and maybe even then i won’t find the kind of people i want to be around. but then i would have become the exact person i want to be around. and maybe that’s good enough.

Jul 19 12826

flowerytale

Jane Austen, from Sense and Sensibility

Jul 7 1705

paranoidc-deactivated20230606

Jul 6 9

ardent-reflections

It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane.

Philip K. Dick

Jul 6 121

petrichor-moss-and-lightning

Girlhood is so bloody messy, one minute you are crying on your bathroom floor and then the next, you remember all the women who came before you, roared their way through life and paid for your integrity in blood and sweat. You remember that you have inherited their memory, their endurance, their resistance and mostly their warm blood that doesn't let you lie on your bathroom floor for long. You get up and move for all the women who came before you, for you.

Nurse, sinner, virgin, bitch I am the, I am the vengeful daughter of the witch (Mother)

you wear an ancestor's face. you look like a woman you'll never meet. in that mirror, there's thousands of you. and in the bath, when you look down, she looks back, shaking and deforming in the ripples as she lies beneath the surface.

Every woman is essentially a Russian Nesting Doll of trauma. There's my pain, then open me up and neatly nested inside is my mother and her pain, crack her open and there's her mother, and then

my mother passes quiet fury down like an inheritance, and we sit with it like a heavy weight in our guts, trade knowing glances over dinner. My sister presses her knife a little harder against her plate, grinds her teeth, and bites back a scream. my best friend spits it out in bits and pieces-sparrow bones, bullets of grief.

Or was my rage my mother's? Or her mother's? Or hers? An inherited creature?

"There is something about female rage and anger that cannot be explained. It is experienced, not described. Perhaps this is something innate within women: are the voices of our female ancestors, who had quietly submitted into pain, finally being heard through the means of their female descendants? With the strength of thousands of women, we are fueled with fury."

on maternal lines and inherited rage

Shivani Mittal via Instagram // Kiki Rockwell, “Burn Your Village” // @cursedsuggestion // @domestic-butch // @petrichor-moss-and-lightning, “autonomy in the age of greed” // Lidia Yuknavitch, “Letter to My Rage: An Evolution” // unknown