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Robert Demachy, Camera Work XVI, Toucques Valley, 1906
(image via indigenousdialogues; lostintherenaissance)
“Evenings delve
into your eye. Lip-
picked syllables—
a lovely voiceless circle—
help the creeping star
into their ring. The stone, once
close to the temporal zones, now opens up:
my soul, you were
in the ether with all
the other
scattershot suns.”
— Paul Celan, “Erratic”
(via yama-bato)


