Caernarfon Castle, Wales (by Julian)

We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.

Dead Poets Society (1989) dir. Peter Weir, DoP John Seale

Sunrise by James Pillion Via Flickr: Hilton Head Island, South Carolina, USA

This is no Westeros. On April 8, 2019, the Landsat 8 satellite acquired a scene of contrasts in Russia: a fire surrounded by ice.

Between chunks of frozen land and lakes in the Magadan Oblast district of Siberia, a fire burned and billowed smoke plumes that were visible from space.

Not much is known about the cause of the fire, east of the town of Evensk. Forest fires are common in this heavily forested region, and the season usually starts in April or May. Farmers also burn old crops to clear fields and replenish the soil with nutrients, also known as ‘slash and burn agriculture’; such fires occasionally burn out of control. Land cover maps, however, show that this fire region is mainly comprised of shrublands, not croplands.

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This girls is really something else: only she communicates to me so brilliantly her feelings, with much sophistication, and aligns her thoughts with mine like the stars would do. I love, love, love her to the guts.

This day in history, two souls were snuffed out forever.

Rest in Peace

2/20/67-4/5/94

8/22/67-4/5/02

Shakespeare in Westminster Abbey 

Wandering down a side aisle, I was pursued by a distraught Ophelia, who clutched my sleeve with a cry of “My lord” and, addressing me as if I were Polonius, described Hamlet’s unnerving entry into her chamber. I had to resist the temptation to respond: “Go with me, I will go seek the king.” Later, I was confronted by an Othello who knelt before me as if I were the Duke of Venice and cried: “Most potent, grave and reverend signior”: not the kind of thing I’m used to hearing.

“وقد تشعر بأن الموقف باقٍ فيك ، رُغم أنه عَبر.

“You may feel that the situation stays in you, even though it has passed through.

Kurt Cobain

You know what the saddest thing is? You showed him the deepest corners of your soul. But he closed up like you never fucking happened. His fingertips lingered on your skin. You got so lost in his ocean eyes and his magical touch. The little mischievous smile he put on as he stroked your hair like you were his one and only. The way he pulled you into his arms. You were all his. Divine kisses through your body set you on fire. Every grip was holy — every whisper was celestial — every word felt like love — every dot was connected — every emotion was raw. The world stopped just for us, two lovebirds sharing the same heart beat and rhythm. “ilysm. Souls collided and divided. And now you’re stranded. Silence of his is too damn deafening. Theft of heart. Theft of joy. “ifmy.”