care-tags.org

"And it came to me then. That we were wonderful traveling companions, but in the end no more than lonely lumps of metal in their own separate orbits. From far off they look like beautiful shooting stars, but in reality they're nothing more than prisons, where each of us is locked up alone, going nowhere. When the orbits of these two satellites of ours happened to cross paths, we could be together. Maybe even open our hearts to each other. But that was only for the briefest moment. In the next instant we'd be in absolute solitude. Until we burned up and became nothing."

Sputnik Sweetheart, Murakami

“She was wearing a pair of my pyjamas with the sleeves rolled up.
When she laughed I wanted her again. A minute later she asked me if I loved her.
I told her it didn't mean anything but that I didn't think so. She looked sad.
But as we were fixing lunch, and for no apparent reason, she laughed in such a way that I kissed her.”


― Albert Camus, The Stranger

this is fantastic and needs to be seen/heard by more people

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.

"alone with everybody" - Charles Bukowski

"Yet I could think of no shell or petal whose color and shape resembled them. They were the nails on a girl’s fingers, comparable to nothing else. More translucent than a delicate shell, than a thin petal, they seemed to hold a dew of tragedy. Every day and every night her energies were poured into the polishing of this tragic beauty. It penetrated my solitude. Perhaps my yearning, my solitude, transformed them into dew."

- Yasunari Kawabata, “One Arm”

I looked at the stars, and considered how awful it would be for a man to turn his face up to them as he froze to death, and see no help or pity in all the glittering multitude.
Charles Dickens, Great Expectations