It was summer. I was lonely and alone, but I was calm, and I was saner than I have ever been, insomuch as I knew there was a part of me that was in madness.
Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?
And suddenly it is summer, all puzzling fruit and light.
Louise Glück, from “Winter Morning,” The Triumph of Achilles
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Vivien Leigh swimming in George Cukor’s pool, Hollywood, 1960 (x)
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My parents in love on the beach in the 70’s
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“If you have freckles, you might as well relax and enjoy them. There’s nothing you can do about them.” — Deborah Kerr
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hauntedbystorytelling
Three young women eat spaghetti on inflatable mattresses at Lake of Capri, 1939 (AP Photo / Hamilton Wright)
R’s sneaky shot of me, admiring the sea
(isla grande, colombia; last month)
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Anyway it will be autumn tomorrow or the next day: I can smell it in the air–summer smoldering.
J. L. Carr, from A Month in the Country (Harvester Press, 1980)
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metaphorformetaphor
Time passes, as a cold wind sweeps the summer shapes away
At the release of autumn, while the intervals between the years
Become shorter, and the illusion of their real significance
Becomes more and more attenuated, and finally disappears.
John Koethe, from “Mistral,” North Point North: New and Selected Poems (Harper Perennial, 2003)
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herstoryoftouches-deactivated20
softboiledfeelings
ana mendieta, creek, 1974, super 8 film, color, silent | copr. the estate of ana mendieta collection
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Some days in late August at home are like this, the air thin and eager like this, with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar.
William Faulkner, The Sound and the Fury
Eartha Kitt photographed by Isaac Sutton, 1959.
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Gene Tierney, 1940′s
Source: ciao-belle
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violentwavesofemotion-deactivat
August was full of panic, full of the compulsion to snatch at life and hurry to start living. […] The earth and the sea and the sun were so terribly and oppressively present to him.
Ingeborg Bachmann, from The Thirtienth Year: Stories; “The Thirtienth Year”
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violentwavesofemotion-deactivat
Clarity not followed by comprehension. Clarity in delicacy, futility and transparency; clarity flowing unapologetically through the summer air. To trust and to pause. To pause and innocently reflect.
Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anais Nin, Vol. 6: 1955-1966
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kradhe
Italy, Sibbi, Herberts long time friend from Germany,on the balcony, Liguria 1936. Herbert List
Source: kradhe
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It’s summer, which means
my skin is all honey
before noon.
Which means
I’m celebrating the anniversaries
of lovers I never kissed and
bodies I never loved.
Which means
the air is humid
as an open mouth
with all this wanting.
POPSICLES AND GEORGIA O’KEEFFE PAINTINGS by Ashe Vernon