kristina renee

kristina renee

an existential mood board by a flâneur, a fraud.

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“Feed all things with food convenient for them—that is, if the food be procurable. The food of thy soul is light and space; feed it then on light and space. But the food of the body is champagne & oysters; feed it then on champagne & oysters; and so shall it merit a joyful resurrection, if there is any to be.”
—Melville.

[rosé & oysters at The Bedford / girls night. soul food, on so many levels, for sure. xo]

yuppie white girl soul food

“Feed all things with food convenient for them—that is, if the food be procurable. The food of thy soul is light and space; feed it then on light and space. But the food of the body is champagne & oysters; feed it then on champagne & oysters; and so shall it merit a joyful resurrection, if there is any to be.”
—Melville.

[rosé & oysters at The Bedford / girls night. soul food, on so many levels, for sure. xo]

Permalink (183 notes)Via: washingtonpoststyle

"Part of free speech is you being able to speak, but also you listening."

President Obama admonishes the woman who heckled him during a speech. (via washingtonpoststyle)

Permalink (137 notes)Source: dontoverthink Via: themadeshop

"Movies are made out of darkness as well as light; it is the surpassingly brief intervals of darkness between each luminous still image that make it possible to assemble the many images into one moving picture. Without that darkness, there would only be a blur. Which is to say that a full-length movie consists of half an hour or an hour of pure darkness that goes unseen. If you could add up all the darkness, you would find the audience in the theater gazing together at a deep imaginative night. It is the terra incognita of film, the dark continent on every map. In a similar way, a runner’s every step is a leap, so that for a moment he or she is entirely off the ground. For those brief instants, shadows no longer spill out from their feet, like leaks, but hover below them like doubles, as they do with birds, whose shadows crawl below them, caressing the surface of the earth, growing and shrinking as their makers move nearer or farther from that surface. For my friends who run long distances, these tiny fragments of levitation add up to something considerable; by their own power they hover above the earth for many minutes, perhaps some significant portion of an hour or perhaps far more for the hundred-mile races. We fly; we dream in darkness; we devour heaven in bites too small to be measured."

Rebecca Solnit, A Field Guide to Getting Lost (via dontoverthink)

Permalink (13 notes)Via: gutzinger

Permalink (1,738 notes)Source: hellanne Via: marquitaharris

"I have always loved everything about you. Even what I didn’t understand. And I have always known that, at heart, I would have you no different. But most people don’t know how to love. Nothing is enough for them. They must have their dreams. It’s the only thing they do well. Dreaming. They dream up obligations. New ones every day. They long for undiscovered countries, fresh demands, another call. While some of us are left with the knowledge that love can never wait. A shared bed, a hand in yours, that’s the only thing that matters. The worst thing of all is fear. The fear of being alone."

Albert Camus (via hellanne)

Permalink (562 notes)Source: violentwavesofemotion Via: redsulfur

"Let it go — the
smashed word broken
open vow or
the oath cracked length
wise — let it go it
was sworn to
go

let them go — the
truthful liars and
the false fair friends
and the ‘boths’ and
‘neithers’ — you must let them go they
were born
to go

let all go — the
big small middling
tall bigger really
the biggest and all
things — let all go dear

so comes love."

E.E Cummings, “Let It Go” (via petrichour)

Permalink (25 notes)Via: bostonreview

BOSTON REVIEW: from Communist Couplets by Thibault Raoult

Permalink (31,394 notes)Source: quotes-shape-us Via: pal0manegra

"And it’s hard to hate someone once you understand them."

Lucy Christopher, Stolen: A Letter to My Captor (via illusionsvk)

ZoomInfo

[story of my life]

Permalink (315,511 notes) Source: mariedeflor Via: hitrecordjoe

[story of my life]

[story of my life]

Permalink (243 notes)Source: violentwavesofemotion Via: redsulfur

"Yours is the only face I recognize. Bone at my bone, you drink my answers in. I see your eyes lifting their tents. They are blue stones, they begin to outgrow their moss. You blink in surprise and I wonder what you can see, as you trouble my silence. I am a shelter of lies. My arms fit you like a sleeve, they hold catkins of your willows, the wild bee farms of your nerves, each muscle and fold of your days. And now that’s that. There is nothing more that I can say or lose. I tighten to refuse your owling eyes, my fragile visitor. I touch your cheeks, like flowers. You bruise against me. We unlearn. I am a shore rocking you off. You break from me. I choose your only way and hand you off, trembling the selves we lose."

Anne Sexton, Unknown Girl (via violentwavesofemotion)

[can you feel it?]

Permalink (99,153 notes)Source: gabalut Via: pal0manegra

[can you feel it?]

[can you feel it?]

Permalink (161,530 notes)Source: Flickr / sumeja1 Via: pal0manegra

[can you feel it?]

[can you feel it?]

Permalink (40 notes)Via: lnwolffeugene

[can you feel it?]

[Robert Montgomery via rustybreak]

Permalink (383 notes)Via: rustybreak

robert montgomery

[Robert Montgomery via rustybreak]

"I want to eat your sparrow, come here. I want to lick your sparrow claws come here. I want to cut your sorrows out you’re hollowed out. Come here. I want to suck your fingers off. Come here. I want to give you your history back. Your fingers back. I want to tell you yes. Come back. I want to show you my pressure, my heavy, my opened and clothes, my under and o’s. Come here. I want to finger your bones back. I want to sew your bones back I want to re-blood your history. I want to undo you like a mystery novel. Is this the kitchen? The table-saw? Is this your memory? Your tree-dream? You’re declawed. I want to give you your teeth back. Your teeth marks. I want to spit back your teeth-pull. I want to unhinge your heart-jaws. Come here. I want to sit you down on the bed and give you back my years. Here. I breathed your name into the leaves. Here. I breathed you back into the trees. Here. This is your tree-dream this is your tree-house, this is a bedroom, this is a silver broom this is a shallow dream. This is my tree-dirt, my bee shirt. This is my honey-stalk and these are your climbing shoes. Harmonica me to sleep again. Put your sparrow on my back skin."

Kallie Falandays, I Want To Tell You Yes