Gina Marr

fdkjk:

lottey:

Victorian tear catchers. They’re usually used by a widowed bride. Upon the day of the funeral, the widow would collect her tears into this small vial, and all the tears she cried in the first year over the loss of her husband, she would capture in this vial she would wear upon her neck. And on the anniversary of his death, she pours the preserved tears atop his gravesite. It’s beautiful, tragic, and prolongs the suffering for ritualistic purposes. However, it’s quite poetic.

I want one

lottey:

Victorian tear catchers. They’re usually used by a widowed bride. Upon the day of the funeral, the widow would collect her tears into this small vial, and all the tears she cried in the first year over the loss of her husband, she would capture in this vial she would wear upon her neck. And on the anniversary of his death, she pours the preserved tears atop his gravesite. It’s beautiful, tragic, and prolongs the suffering for ritualistic purposes. However, it’s quite poetic.

I want one

(Source: the-collection-of-oddities, via saveatardis)

3 days ago / 23,203 notes

(via ch0lera)

5 days ago / 1,948 notes

When you’re young, you think it’s going to be solved by love. But it never is. Being close—as close as you can get—to another person only makes clear the impassable distance between you.”

“But see, the incredible thing about people is that we forget,” Ray continued. “Time passes and somehow the hope creeps back and sooner or later someone else comes along and we think this is the one. And the whole thing starts all over again. We go through our lives like that, and either we just accept the lesser relationship—it may not be total understanding, but it’s pretty good—or we keep trying for that perfect union, trying and failing, leaving behind us a trail of broken hearts, our own included. In the end, we die as alone as we were born, having struggled to understand others, to make ourselves understood, but having failed in what we once imagined was possible.”

He watched the old man sleep and felt the vast loneliness of the world, the loneliness passed from person to person like a beach ball at a rock concert, kept aloft at all costs, and this was his moment to shoulder it. Or maybe it was his own personal loneliness, a solitary, errant longing no one else could ever know, and the knowledge of this stoked the already existing loneliness, made it widen and blur at the edges until it included everything.

Man Walks Into a Room, Nicole Krauss

1 week ago / 3 notes