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"ugh i love epistolary so much like yesss write letters back and forth but now they are in the same place and not speaking and i genuinely am thrashing around like a caged animal" — Oct 07, 2026 09:33AM
"ugh i love epistolary so much like yesss write letters back and forth but now they are in the same place and not speaking and i genuinely am thrashing around like a caged animal" — Oct 07, 2026 09:33AM
“While I'm gone," Gansey said, pausing, "dream me the world. Something new for every night.”
― The Dream Thieves
― The Dream Thieves
“Wherever they might be they always remember that the past was a lie, that memory has no return, that every spring gone by could never be recovered, and that the wildest and most tenacious love was an ephemeral truth in the end.”
― One Hundred Years of Solitude
― One Hundred Years of Solitude
“Belize: Hell or heaven?
[Roy indicates "Heaven" through a glance]
Belize: Like San Francisco.
Roy Cohn: A city. Good. I was worried... it'd be a garden. I hate that shit.
Belize: Mmmm. Big city. Overgrown with weeds, but flowering weeds. On every corner a wrecking crew and something new and crooked going up catty corner to that. Windows missing in every edifice like broken teeth, fierce gusts of gritty wind, and a gray high sky full of ravens.
Roy Cohn: Isaiah.
Belize: Prophet birds, Roy. Piles of trash, but lapidary like rubies and obsidian, and diamond-colored cowspit streamers in the wind. And voting booths.
Roy Cohn: And a dragon atop a golden horde.
Belize: And everyone in Balencia gowns with red corsages, and big dance palaces full of music and lights and racial impurity and gender confusion. And all the deities are creole, mulatto, brown as the mouths of rivers. Race, taste and history finally overcome. And you ain't there.
Roy Cohn: And Heaven?
Belize: That was Heaven, Roy.”
― Angels in America
[Roy indicates "Heaven" through a glance]
Belize: Like San Francisco.
Roy Cohn: A city. Good. I was worried... it'd be a garden. I hate that shit.
Belize: Mmmm. Big city. Overgrown with weeds, but flowering weeds. On every corner a wrecking crew and something new and crooked going up catty corner to that. Windows missing in every edifice like broken teeth, fierce gusts of gritty wind, and a gray high sky full of ravens.
Roy Cohn: Isaiah.
Belize: Prophet birds, Roy. Piles of trash, but lapidary like rubies and obsidian, and diamond-colored cowspit streamers in the wind. And voting booths.
Roy Cohn: And a dragon atop a golden horde.
Belize: And everyone in Balencia gowns with red corsages, and big dance palaces full of music and lights and racial impurity and gender confusion. And all the deities are creole, mulatto, brown as the mouths of rivers. Race, taste and history finally overcome. And you ain't there.
Roy Cohn: And Heaven?
Belize: That was Heaven, Roy.”
― Angels in America
“It's enough for me to be sure that you and I exist at this moment.”
― One Hundred Years of Solitude
― One Hundred Years of Solitude
“We have so much to say, and we shall never say it.”
― All Quiet on the Western Front
― All Quiet on the Western Front
Syd’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Syd’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
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