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“How can I do this? How can I leave everything known? How can I leave language and belonging and familiar faces, faces that look like mine? How can I leave this patch of earth that has been mine? Samson taught me once that the hydrangea blooms in a range of shades depending on the soil it sinks its roots into. From faintest pink to darkest night blue, the flower reflects the acidity of its patch of earth. How am I different? This person I am, will I be killed in the transition across the planet? What new person will emerge in that other soil?”
― What Lies Between Us
― What Lies Between Us
“Is it this very suffering flesh
that is only real?
This very self that exists for a brief spell,
thus frame that flow flooded with the use of life,
a mere flowerbud that burns with pure desire,
an illusory butterfly worn with cares.”
―
that is only real?
This very self that exists for a brief spell,
thus frame that flow flooded with the use of life,
a mere flowerbud that burns with pure desire,
an illusory butterfly worn with cares.”
―
“There is no technical means of reproduction that, up to now, has managed to surpass the mirror and the dream.”
― The Days of Abandonment
― The Days of Abandonment
“Burnt-out ashes turn to fuel again.
Whose lamp is my heart that burns
Flickering all night long?”
―
Whose lamp is my heart that burns
Flickering all night long?”
―
“Despite my lifelong wish to live
like an immaculate petal
what shall I do
with the doleful fountain
that wells out
from the deep woods of my heart?”
―
like an immaculate petal
what shall I do
with the doleful fountain
that wells out
from the deep woods of my heart?”
―
sofirilux ’s 2025 Year in Books
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