Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive bundle of flesh. I remember what this flesh has gone through; I dream of what it may go through.
— Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
Don’t go far off, not even for a day, because– because–I don’t know how to say it: a day is long and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.
Don’t leave me, even for an hour, because then the little drops of anguish will all run together, the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift into me, choking my lost heart.
Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach; may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance. Don’t leave me for a second, my dearest,
because in that moment you’ll have gone so far I’ll wander mazily over all the earth, asking, Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?
english flower names are so evocative. snapdragon. wolfsbane. even as loanwords they’re still pretty; dandelion traces back to old french for “lion’s tooth”. meanwhile the actual french word for dandelion means piss-the-bed
we really fucking popped off with words for being up to no good. scam. fraud. swindle. nefarious. dastardly. ne'er-do-well. diabolical. scheme. rogue. knave. there are real classics.
