Do you imagine at night someone
going to bed the very moment
you are going to bed? Turning
out the light?
And isn’t it so quiet you swear
the heart is telepathic.
"Golden Tears" by Gustave Klimt
I keep thinking about depression like it’s a pocket watch that’s been passed down for centuries. “Keep it in the family” my mother says, gripping my wrists. I check the time. I check the time, again.
—Monogamy Songs, Gregory Sherl (via neurochemicals)
When he heard music he no longer listened to the notes, but the silences in between. When he read a book he gave himself over entirely to commas and semicolons, to the space after the period and before the capital letter of the next sentence. He discovered the places in a room where silence gathered; the folds of curtain drapes, the deep bowls of the family silver. When people spoke to him, he heard less and less of what they were saying, and more and more of what they were not.
—The History Of Love; Nicole Krauss (via eileenssummerreadinglist)