“Most books on witchcraft will tell you that witches work naked. This is because most books on witchcraft were written by men.”
―
―
“Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake
and dress them in warm clothes again.
How it was late, and no one could sleep, the horses running
until they forget that they are horses.
It’s not like a tree where the roots have to end somewhere,
it’s more like a song on a policeman’s radio,
how we rolled up the carpet so we could dance, and the days
were bright red, and every time we kissed there was another apple
to slice into pieces.
Look at the light through the windowpane. That means it’s noon, that means
we're inconsolable.
Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.
These, our bodies, possessed by light.
Tell me we’ll never get used to it.”
― Crush
and dress them in warm clothes again.
How it was late, and no one could sleep, the horses running
until they forget that they are horses.
It’s not like a tree where the roots have to end somewhere,
it’s more like a song on a policeman’s radio,
how we rolled up the carpet so we could dance, and the days
were bright red, and every time we kissed there was another apple
to slice into pieces.
Look at the light through the windowpane. That means it’s noon, that means
we're inconsolable.
Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.
These, our bodies, possessed by light.
Tell me we’ll never get used to it.”
― Crush
“What’s this?”
“It’s a napkin used by the saddest girl in the world to dry her tears.”
“Let me guess. Sylvia Plath?”
“No, no one famous. But we knew about her. She gave off so much resonance, it turned our entire map black for one city block.”
“And she was no one special?”
“You wouldn’t recognise her name if I told it to you.”
“So just an everyday, normal person carrying their shopping, reading books at night and going for drinks occasionally with her friends, just some person, that’s the saddest girl in the world?”
“Yes. Just a regular person.”
―
“It’s a napkin used by the saddest girl in the world to dry her tears.”
“Let me guess. Sylvia Plath?”
“No, no one famous. But we knew about her. She gave off so much resonance, it turned our entire map black for one city block.”
“And she was no one special?”
“You wouldn’t recognise her name if I told it to you.”
“So just an everyday, normal person carrying their shopping, reading books at night and going for drinks occasionally with her friends, just some person, that’s the saddest girl in the world?”
“Yes. Just a regular person.”
―
“Never apologize for how you feel. No one can control how they feel. The sun doesn’t apologize for being the sun. The rain doesn’t say sorry for falling. Feelings just are”
― Intentional Dissonance
― Intentional Dissonance
harmony’s 2025 Year in Books
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