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the merry frolics of satan (1906), dir. george méliès
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and they welcomed in the morning, even though it was a glum morn. margarida didn’t like mornings. because in the morning a naive woman could believe that the night was ending. but night never ended; it merely waited, hiding, and always returned.
irene solà, i gave you eyes and you looked toward darkness (trans. mara faye lethem)
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paulo freire, dedication to pedagogy of the oppressed
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wake up dead man (2025), dir. rian johnson
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marie howe, 'my dead friends'
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eraserhead (1977), dir. david lynch
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karen solie, 'that which was learned in youth is always most familiar'
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vladimir nabokov, the original of laura
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andré 3000, listening to the sun
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vladimir nabokov, the original of laura
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she whose curses had blasted the fire till it shrivelled big logs of oak crooned now a melody like a wind in summer blowing from wild wood gardens that no man tended, down valleys loved once by children, now lost to them but for dreams, a song of such memories as lurk and hide along the edges of oblivion, now flashing from beautiful years a glimpse of some golden moment, now passing swiftly out of remembrance again, to go back to the shades of oblivion, and leaving on the mind those faintest traces of little shining feet which when dimly perceived by us are called regrets.
she sang of old summer noons in the time of harebells: she sang on that high dark heath a song that seemed so full of mornings and evenings preserved with all their dews by her magical craft from days that had else been lost, that alveric wondered of each small wandering wing, that her fire had lured from the dusk, if this were the ghost of some day lost to man, called up by the force of her song from times that were fairer.
lord dunsany, the king of elfland's daughter
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vladimir nabokov, the original of laura
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larissa lai, iron goddess of mercy