bombardment, floating.

Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under all the weight of the lives I'm not living.
hold steady, don’t blink.

hold steady, don’t blink.

bloom.

bloom.

The meaning of books lies before them and not behind: it is in us. A book is not a ready-made, terminal meaning, a revelation which we must undergo and assume; it is a reservoir of forms which receive their meaning; it is what Borges has called the imminence of a revelation which does not occur; it is an asymptote.

—Richard Howard, “A Consideration of the Writings of Emily Dickinson” (via invisiblestories)