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unfortunately, I did have to make the caramel three times over, and I did burn myself with it, but that’s just showbiz, I guess.
granny smith, soft glossy caramel, dark chocolate, roasted cashews, pepitas and flaky salt.
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and becomes the very disappearance that is accomplished in language, the only initiator and principle: the source.”
(The Book to Come, tr. Charlotte Mandell)
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ended up with Blanchot again.
“Nature is transposed by language into the rhythmic movement that makes it disappear, endlessly and indefinitely; and the poet, by the fact that he speaks poetically, disappears into this language (1/2)
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miguel bernardeau for les hommes publics (2026) photographed by javier biosca ✶
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From the letters of Virginia Woolf to Vita Sackville-West:
"Style is a very simple matter; it is all rhythm. Once you get that, you can't use the wrong words... A sight, an emotion, creates this wave in the mind, long before it makes words to fit it..."
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I love the look of books, the feel of them, the smell of them, the endless mad stacks and shelves of them. It’s a tangible, emotional history with objects that we can never have with digital alternatives.
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Either the monsoons have come early or the universe is shedding tears for you and your silly little life. Today, the tears fall thick as globs of ink, diving from angry clouds onto the heads of the meek.
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“What also touches me … is the unendingness of painting.”
— Hélène Cixous (interview, 1999)
Came to mind while reading John Berger on Monet.











































