"The lack of diversity and equity in the publishing industry is not a theoretical issue for us to intellectualize over coffee. It is an injustice. The destruction of libraries and burning of books has historically been used to strip peoples of their history and culture. Those in power continue to limit the ability of those they have subjugated to share their stories. They retain ultimate control of the narrative."
— Léonicka Valcius (via mollyiswrappedupinbooks)
30, 000 books were systematically collected during the 1948 war from Arab neighborhoods in western Jerusalem by the newly born state of Israel.
(Source: mollymwetta, via aportraitofawomanreading)
The rafters in Pablo Neruda’s studio, photographed by Milton Rogovin. This photo appears in Rogovin’s book, Windows That Open Inward (Rogovin, M., Maloney, D., Bly, R. and Neruda, P. 1985. Windows that open inward. Buffalo, N.Y.: White Pine Press).
THE NAMES by Pablo Neruda
I didn’t write them on the roofbeams because they
were famous, but because they were companions
Rojas Giménez, the nomad, nocturnal, pierced with
the grief of farewells, dead with joy pigeon breeder, madman
of the shadows
Joaquín Cifruntes, whose verses rolled like stones in
Fredrico, who made me laugh like no on else could
and who put us all in mourning for a century.
Paul Eluard, whose forget-me-not color eyes are as sky
blue as always and retain their blue strength under the earth.
Miguel Hernándes, whistling to me like a nightingale
from the trees on Princesa Street until they caged my
Nazim, noisy bard, brave gentleman, friend.
Why did they leave so soon? Their names will not slip
down from the rafters. Each one of them was a victory.
Together they were the sum of my light. Now, a small
anthology of my sorrow.
Excerpt from Poetry by Pablo Neruda
And I, tiny being,
drunk with the great starry
likeness, image of
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss.
I wheeled with the stars.
My heart broke loose with the wind.
Full poem here: http://www.doctorhugo.org/synaesthesia/neruda.html
Ten Commandments for Gilbert and George
Thou shalt fight conformism
Thou shalt be the messenger of freedoms
Thou shalt make use of sex
Thou shalt reinvent life
Thou shalt create artificial art
Thou shalt have a sense of purpose
Thou shalt not know exactly what thou dost, but thou shalt do it
Thou shalt give thy love
Thou shalt grab the soul
Thou shalt give something back
"I am fenced in, planted here like one of my own trees."
— Virginia Woolf, The Waves (via wavingtovirginia)