#throwback this gentleman resting his armpit on my head
up at 1am prepping for my last paper of the sem and feeling miserable because i haven’t seen that boy all week. ok no mostly miserable because i’ve been doing relatively well all semester and now i’m really burning out and i just. simply. cannot. function. anymore. of course also because i haven’t seen that boy all week. ok whatever back to winterson now, bye guys, i can almost taste freedom now. and it tastes like perilla oil seaweed…. because i’m eating that right now mmmm
"A word, razbliuto. We don’t have a word to match it but we should. We should develop it tonight because the word means, ‘the feelings one retains for someone he once loved’."
"Hate?" Jude says.
"No, not that feeling," my grandfather answers and looks at Jude with disappointment.
"Betrayal," my mother says without looking away from her book.
"No," my grandfather says. "It’s the little house love moved out of, maybe a hermit crab moves in and carries the house across the floor of a tidal pool. The lover sees the old love moving and it looks like it’s alive again."
They are all wrong. There’s a reason why we have no word for it. You don’t get to keep the feelings for someone you once loved. Once you’ve washed your hands off that person, all those feelings, all that dirty water is washed out to sea. There is no word for that dirty water.
Nicole Krauss, The History of Love