Log in

No account? Create an account

[sticky post] Books read in 2015

Books read for the first time in 2015:

Waging Heavy Peace: A Hippie Dream - Neil Young
The Help - Kathryn Stockett
Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
The Thing Around Your Neck - Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
Why be happy when you could be normal? - Jeanette Winterson
The Summer Book - Tove Jansson
The Wind Singer - William Nicholson
Orlando - Virginia Woolf


World, I love you

Got an uncoditional offer from Brighton uni!!!! Life is pretty good right now! Will be starting my English language and literature degree in September, so excited, I can't wait!


In April Alice and I have known each other for ten years. A decade. When we met she was 10 and I was just 14. This year she's turning 20, pretty old for a horse.I don't want to think about the fact that there will be a day in the future when she no longer exist. I compare every horse I meet with her and so far no one has stood a chance. She is a wonderful teacher, mother, working partner and most of all a friend. I believe that she's wiser and knows more about the world than I ever will.
The hardest part of leaving my home town, my country, was leaving this beatiful horse behind. But I know that my mum takes much better care of her than I ever could. Alice is cared for by someone who loves her just as much as I do and who also have the resources to give her all the attention and care that she deserves, so what more could I wish for? I miss her but I know that she's happy and healty.

My room

Thought I'd show you guys some pictures of my room. We have a two floor flat and Anna's and my room are upstairs while kitchen, living room, bathroom and our flatmate Nae's bedroom are downstairs. So lets go upstairs and have a look at my room:

Up the stairs!Collapse )

There's nothing more empty

There's nothing more empty than Brighton beach in November.

I think i too have known autumn too long

A Wind Has Blown The Rain Away And Blown
by E.E Cummings

a wind has blown the rain away and blown
the sky away and all the leaves away,
and the trees stand.  I think i too have known
autumn too long

                  (and what have you to say,
wind wind wind—did you love somebody
and have you the petal of somewhere in your heart
pinched from dumb summer?
                            O crazy daddy
of death dance cruelly for us and start

the last leaf whirling in the final brain
of air!)Let us as we have seen see
doom’s integration………a wind has blown the rain

away and the leaves and the sky and the
trees stand:
             the trees stand.  The trees,
suddenly wait against the moon’s face.

I'm trying to get into the Christmas spirit but it's hard for me, living in this strange new country where winter has yet to be invented., All that exist is a very long autumn that sometime in late February turns into spring. And then there's the wind. I realise now that I didn't even know what wind was before I moved here.
Birches by Robert Frost

When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay
As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust—
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows—
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father's trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.


Books read in 2014

Books read for the first time during 2014:

The Jane Austen book club - Karen Joy Fowler
1984 - George Orwell
Sofie's World - Jostein Gaarder
All the pretty horses - Cormac McCarthy
The fault in our stars - John Green
The Summer I wasn't me - Jessica Verdi
Youth: Scenes from Provincial Life II - J. M. Coetzee
Animal Farm - George Orwell
Down and Out in Paris and London - George Orwell
One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel García Márquez
Flowers for Algernon - Daniel Keyes

Never let me go - Kazuo Ishiguro


Two years


Today is the anniversary of Alma's death. I had almost forgotten. I feel her fading more and more from my memory. I still miss her, I can barely look at pictures of her without crying, but I can't really imagine what she actually was like anymore. Time passes so quickly. She would have turned three this year. Instead she didn't even get a whole year on this earth. I know it may seem silly for some of you to miss a horse so much, but everybody who has ever loved and lost a pet should understand. I was there when she was born, before that I felt her kick inside Alice's stomach. She was absolutely perfect. It always felt like she was a dream, too amazing to be real.


The cruellest month

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke’s,
My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter

The first paragraph of T.S Eliot's poem The Waste Land.


Latest Month

January 2015