“ When a memory comes alive, it becomes fluent. It speaks to you in tongues you never thought that existed. Accuracy ceases to matter and the sublimity of your most naked experiences echoes through every cell of your body. When a memory comes alive, it becomes mythical and transparent; it pierces your veins with colours, smells and that particularly rhythmical sensation of constant movement. Impeccable in its palliating formlessness, it perhaps screams or whispers. And if you have the capacity to hear, the wholeness of what a memory consists of, stays with you. It nestles in that very exclusive and deeply private spot of your heart and it allows you to fondle it from within. Or it leaves you broken, it dismantles your ego and crushes your selfhood. It leaves you thinking that all truth is dark ; you start questioning why you still can’t shake it off your head, it swallows the sum of your parts one by one with alarming impatience, it does not quite forgive your softness. It devours. It exhausts the fuck out of your system. It feels so unimaginably real that, somehow, it becomes you. And whether its intensity outlives you or not, it’s still passionately persistent and affecting your own little “reality” show. When a memory comes alive – you are. ”
next time someone tells you Muslim countries oppress women, let them know Pakistan, Bangladesh, Indonesia, Turkey, Kosovo, Kyrgyzstan, and Senegal have all had female Presidents or Prime Ministers and 1/3rd of Egypt’s parliament is female but the US has yet to even have a female vice president and can’t say “vagina” when discussing female reproductive rights
“ There is nothing prettier than a city at 5 AM with its empty streets and cold wind ”
“ Don’t take anything personally. Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering. ”
I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.
“ I don’t know how to answer. I know what I think, but words in the head are like voices underwater. They are distorted. ”
“ Why do we always choose the opposite of what we want? I think, because we don’t want to be dependent. When two people love each other, they don’t love in the same way. One of them is strong, the other is weaker. And the weaker is always the one who loves without reckoning, without reservation. It feels now as if I’ve awakened from some kind of dream after some other kind of life. For some reason, I always offered resistance. I fought against something. I defended myself, just as though I’d had someone else inside me saying: don’t give into anything, don’t go along with anything or you’ll die. ”