Small fires burn on the hillsides above the in the southern German town of Pottenstein on January 6, 2010, part of an annual festival traditionally held to ward off evil spirts from the past year.
My hours are married to shadow.
~ Sylvia Plath, from The Colossus
Taken in Avignon, France. c. Pamela Goode 2009
Ah, but we die to each other daily.
What we know of other people
Is only our memory of the moments
During which we knew them. And they have changed since then.
To pretend that they and we are the same
Is a useful and convenient social convention
Which must sometimes be broken. We must also remember
That at every meeting we are meeting a stranger.
– ts eliot, the cocktail party. (via ahayward)
