The meowing bird

We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes,
tastes we have swallowed,
bodies we have plunged into and swum up as if rivers of wisdom,
characters we have climbed into as if trees,
fears we have hidden in as if caves.
I wish for all this to be marked on my body when I am dead.
I believe in such cartography--to be marked by nature,
not just to label ourselves on a map like the
names of rich men and women on buildings.
We are communal histories, communal books.
We are not owned or monogamous in our taste or experience.
-Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient

schoolhall:

my godfather took this picture some years (1998) before he died of cancer, he loved photography so much even when he was in hospital he used to carry hes camera. 
ive got tones of pictures but this one its kinda special, the woman reading in Rio de janeiro, shes a stranger, he stood there for a couple of minutes waiting to get the perfect angle and took the picture, when he developed it he gave me his camera (even tough i was a toddler), if he was alive, he would be one more blogger in here, he was so special, the kind of person that could see your soul before your face.

schoolhall:

my godfather took this picture some years (1998) before he died of cancer, he loved photography so much even when he was in hospital he used to carry hes camera.

ive got tones of pictures but this one its kinda special, the woman reading in Rio de janeiro, shes a stranger, he stood there for a couple of minutes waiting to get the perfect angle and took the picture, when he developed it he gave me his camera (even tough i was a toddler), if he was alive, he would be one more blogger in here, he was so special, the kind of person that could see your soul before your face.

(via commovente)

1 month ago