— August 3, 1917 / Franz Kafka Diaries
— August 3, 1917 / Franz Kafka diaries
More Posts from Aphonicchaos and Others
This for all the broken friendships we couldn't save
This for all the words we didn't say cause we were afraid they will not understand
This for all the promises which were not meant to fulfil
This for all the more than friends less than lovers
-Emily Brontë, from “Wuthering Heights”
Isn't it strange how the idea of comfort for us is so different?Like that's my favourite place to sit, that's my favourite blanket where I feel cosy, or those are my favourite colour of bedsheets. Looking at them just makes me feel so soft.It can be a candle that makes your heart feel lighter when you blow it out.Or it can be looking at colourful flowers or simply staring at the moon.It can be as simple as singing your favourite song whenever you want or as hard as making a painting of your messy thoughts.It can be walking down the street alone in the evening or talking with your friends for hours.I guess it is unique how we humans find comfort in things, foods, songs, places, and sometimes in people too.
Atleast we are under the same sky my love.
Ilya Kaminsky, from "Musica Humana", Dancing in Odessa: Poems
-Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the shore
— Sylvia Plath, "The Bell Jar"
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