*** j. twenties. london/munich. english lit. major. ***
this room and everything in it: Tomato Soup
Tomato Soup
The simplicity of unadorned taste:
tomatoes, flour, salt. Unceremonious
and so unlike an English stew.
No hidden bones, chunks of meat.
No skeletons in our closet,
Can of soup, can of water.
You eat it after doing simple things:
skating, skiing, or just taking a walk
down a street of look-alike homes.
No iron kettle to hide ingredients.
A stainless steel pot on an electric range
works best. Do not add salt or pepper.
The simplicity of unadorned taste.
We love it the way the Italians
love tomato sauce with basil:
as a stronghold of culture,
a stubborn remembrance of revolution,
of green vines tied to stakes
and the pendulous warm red fruit.
Où? Ici? La? Où sont des mots sur une page?
Where? Here? There? Where are the words on a page?
— Feu la cendre [Cinders], Derrida
(Source: timeimmemorial)
looking at heartbreak, the sky
almost criminal."
— Yusef Komunyakaa, from “NJ Transit” (via weissewiese)
(via weissewiese)
— Hiroshi (the Ghost) in Restless (via mea-culpa)
