Instead of falling asleep like most people at 1:20am, I’m writing questions.
Do you remember making a friend for the first time?
You’re home alone. It’s late. Suddenly you hear a loud knocking on your door. What do you do?
Do you remember the longest silence you’ve ever experienced?
Would you like to travel alone? Where would you go?
Can you remember falling in love with someone?
How old were you when you realised there was something outside of yourself, your life and your family?
What happens when we die?
Do babies have vivid dreams?
Who are the most influential women in your life?
If you could write your own obit, what would it say?
What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with someone you didn’t like?
Do you think you live a generous life?
Are you creative?
You lost all interest in this world. You were disappointed and discouraged, and lost interest in everything. So you abandoned your physical body. You went to a world apart and you’re living a different kind of life there. In a world that’s inside you.
In the old days he would not have worried, but the fighting part of him was tired now, along with the other part, and he was alone in all of this now and he lay on the big, wide, old bed and could neither read nor sleep.Ernest Hemingway, To Have and Have Not. Scribner, 1999
I’m bad at letting go, always staying beyond rationality and reason. I don’t remember who I was before all of this and every day the loss consumes me. I don’t want my years to be spent waiting to be rescued by someone who tells me that love is not enough. How do words of love flower from a mouth so foul?From Anonymous (via rupikaur)
And men go abroad to admire the heights of mountains, the mighty waves of the sea, the broad tides of rivers, the compass of the ocean, and the circuits of the stars, yet pass over the mystery of themselves without a thought.