if i hear one more person refer to the early to mid-1900’s as the “good ol’ days” im going to vomit
the “good ole days” in america: when the only people who had rights were white, upper/middle class, straight men
“I will wade out till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers. i will take the sun in my mouth and leap into the ripe air, alive, with closed eyes.”
Allow me to give you some advice from the heart: don’t give up art, and even give yourself over to it even more than so far … Living in solitude and embittering your soul with recollections, you can make your life very gloomy. There is a single refuge, a single medicine: art and creative work.
"what’s a queen without her king?" well, historically, better