Selenesparis - Selene's Paris

Happiness Will Come To You.

Collect books, even if you don't plan on reading them right away. Nothing is more important than an unread library.

~ John Waters

“The little dot we live on.” The Book of knowledge. v. 7. 1912.

Internet Archive

Ballad of a beautiful woman

I wake up in a strange room, the sheets are sticky and the clothes are dirty.       Last night my body was not mine. We met in a bar, he offered me a drink and told me I was beautiful;       that I was hot. He told me: “I enjoy your company. Come with me.” He brought me to an art gallery, he showed me what he liked, he asked for my thoughts. He kissed me, he tied my wrists: he told me to beg,       he called me a whore. He hit me, I didn’t like it. He hit me again.       I asked for more.

It’s morning and I wake up in another bed. This man was less rough, he kissed my skin and caressed my body;       he said that a woman like me deserved worship. We met again. And again, and again. He became more talkative during sex. He started saying that I had a perfect body, that I was a gift from the gods,       that I was made for him. When I told him I was moving he begged me to stay.       Two weeks later he was at my door.       He broke in.       I was on the bed.

I wake up in the middle of the night. I’m alone. Many men approached me during the evening, each of them with a lascivious look.       I turned them down. I laid in my bed and I cried.

      There is no love for me in this world. Only pity and shallow lust.

THE COMPANY OF WOLVES (1984) dir. Neil Jordan

Rosaleen & The Huntsman/The Wolf

“For all the universes there are, this one was not enough, not for now, not for us. Somewhere in another, though. We are softer, we are kinder. To our skin, to each other.”

— In that there that isn’t here, I allow myself to love you | p.d

           ↳ Welcome To Night Vale: Episode 37 - The Action by Joseph Fink, Jeffrey Cranor & Glen David Gold

JESSICA JONES 1x03 || A.K.A IT'S CALLED WHISKEY

Pale Blue Dot

Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us.

On it, everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives.

The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there –on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena.

Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot.

Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light.

Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

–Carl Sagan's Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space

ll Earth seen from about 3.7 billion miles away l Voyager 1 l 1990