"If I look up from my desk I can see the water and the valley beyond framed by the lower branches of the walnut tree. Its leaves reach out like seven-fingered hands to within a few feet of the studio window and its higher branches rustle and sway above the red tiles of the roof. Thirty feet from the doorway the silver-grey, deeply rutted trunk, which measures ten feet around its girth, rises only twelve feet above ground-level before spreading out in a fountain of great limbs. They writhe and twist sixty feet into the air and spread nearly seventy feet from side to side. It is magnificent. It makes me eternally grateful to those of our forebears who planned for future generations rather than for their own. It is certain that whoever planted the seed and tended the sapling did not live to see it reach maturity, but I have a feeling that he knew exactly what he was doing and enjoyed great satisfaction in doing it. When I look at the tree in the dark days of winter, its huge green-black skeleton silhouetted against the ashen sky, or hear its tracery seething in a westerly gale as I lie snug and warm in bed, I wonder who it was that planted this giant for so many generations to enjoy. And in the balmy days of summer when its leaves are overlaid like the breast feathers of a great bird to form high domes of rounded foliage, I wish I could call back this gentle spirit of the past and say: ‘This is your tree. Look at it now, for it is gracious beyond words.’"
Norman Thelwell, 1978
by Oskar Zabala
so apparently MGMT is also short for O-6-methylguanine-DNA methyltransferase.
"
If I ever have kids, I hope they go headfirst over the handlebars of their bike, once in a while. I hope they come home with dirt and grass stains, a canvas the earth colored on, tangled hair, sweat and sun kissed cheeks. I hope they break at least one bone, have skinned knees and elbows. I hope they swing as high as they can and then leap, to see where they land. I hope they learn how to pull themselves up by the bootstraps, how to get back on that horse, how to grab life by the horns.
I hope their canvas sneakers never stay the color they once were, and that they shake the sand, and the dirt, and the earth from them, in the evening. I hope they embrace their naked skin, in summertime, and sleep with feet as black as tar. I hope they shimmy up tree trunks, and dance with abandon. I hope they know what it’s like to crawl into bed, bone-weary but deliriously happy from a day of adventures.
I hope they endure enough suffering to make them empathetic, compassionate, generous, grateful, and struggle enough to feel the jubilee of triumph, the ecstasy of overcoming hardships. I hope they never sit in front of television sets over dinner and watch the world from afar, but immerse themselves in it fully. I hope they never say,“I can’t do anything,” but ask, “What can I do?” I hope they are unafraid to stand up for themselves or for others, but know how to do it peacefully, unafraid to speak up, but know how to do it respectfully.
I hope they are inquisitive, curious, thirsty for knowledge. I hope it is quenched in freedom, instead of being snuffed out in institutions. I hope they question the system, the inner-workings of the world, and have the strength, the courage, to swim against the current.
I hope they nurture their bodies, breath-deeper, stretch longer, that they tend to the earth, in the gentle way they would humanity. I hope they have to swallow a lump in their throat when they see the beauty of a sunset, that the night sky makes their jaw drop, that the sea is euphoria. I hope the mountains are paradise for them, the forest a sanctuary, the warmth of the desert, a womb-like oasis.
If I ever have kids, I hope they know what it is to love, and to be loved.
"Susannah Cole-King
"I wish you never ending dreams
And the longing to realise some of them
I wish you to love whatever needs to be loved
And forget what has to be forgotten
I wish you passions
I wish you silences
I wish you bird songs to wake you up
And children’s laughter
I wish you to resist engulfment,
Heartlessness
And the negative virtues of our time.
And most of all, I wish you to be yourself."
Jacques Brel
(Source: societaltrash, via morosity)
Dialog - Rudolf Bonvie - 1973
