jovi esquivel

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  • I love self portraits! A few weeks ago, while looking at some photos I’ve taken, I decided to turn it into a project for myself. 
 It’s a series of self portraits taken in restrooms I visit and find enchanting, in one way or another.. (Light, decor)

#elbañode 2nd floor, Palm Springs Art Museum. Palm Springs, CA
    I love self portraits! A few weeks ago, while looking at some photos I’ve taken, I decided to turn it into a project for myself. It’s a series of self portraits taken in restrooms I visit and find enchanting, in one way or another.. (Light, decor)

    #elbañode 2nd floor, Palm Springs Art Museum. Palm Springs, CA

    • 1 week ago
    • 2 notes
    • #elbañode
  • I would like to watch you sleeping, which may not happen.
    I would like to watch you,
    sleeping. I would like to sleep
    with you, to enter
    your sleep as its smooth dark wave slides over my head

    and walk with you through that lucent wavering forest of blue-green leaves with its watery sun & three moons towards the cave where you must descend,
    towards your worst fear

    I would like to give you the silver branch, the small white flower, the one word that will protect you
    from the grief at the center
    of your dream, from the grief
    at the center. I would like to follow you up the long stairway
    again & become
    the boat that would row you back carefully, a flame
    in two cupped hands
    to where your body lies
    beside me, and you enter
    it as easily as breathing in


    I would like to be the air
    that inhabits you for a moment
    only. I would like to be that unnoticed & that necessary.

    Margaret Atwood

    • 2 weeks ago
    • #Margaret Atwood
    • #variation on the word Sleep
  • Juan, singing and playing his harmonica @backtothegrind. #backtothegrind #riverside #blues #music

    Juan, singing and playing his harmonica @backtothegrind. #backtothegrind #riverside #blues #music

    • 2 months ago
    • 3 notes
    • #backtothegrind
    • #riverside
    • #music
    • #blues
  • Night- Piece

    I do not sleep at night.
    Rain does not lull me, and the withered wind
    Is always out of tune, when there is wind
    Or moon enough for light.

    The sounds, up from the street,
    Fall back again, unclaimed: the dispossessed.
    The sounds repeat, repeat…

    But never call my name;
    Though I have heard the footsteps mount the stair,
    The steady tread that echoed down the stair-
    And trembled just the same…

    As if someone had come
    But could not find me, passing by my room,
    And did not know I waited in my room,
    Lonely, sleepless and dumb.

    by Raymond R. Patterson

    • 2 months ago
    • 1 notes
    • #Raymond R. Patterson
    • #poet
    • #26 Ways of looking at a black man
  • He said, I was his. As long as I was his, no one else was allowed to see me. Don’t you have any morals? Don’t you know, that your body is something sacred? It belongs to god.. it’s mine now
Self PortraitSummer 2009 Digital

    He said, I was his. As long as I was his, no one else was allowed to see me. Don’t you have any morals? Don’t you know, that your body is something sacred? It belongs to god.. it’s mine now


    Self Portrait
    Summer 2009 
    Digital

    • 3 months ago
    • 4 notes
  • The day after tomorrow, not until the day after tomorrow …

    I’ll spend tomorrow thinking about the day after tomorrow,
    And then maybe, we’ll see; but not today …
    Today is out of question. Today I can’t.
    The confused persistence of my objective subjectivity,
    The fatigue of my real, intermittently appearing life,
    The anticipated and infinite weariness,
    A multi-world weariness just to catch a streetcar,
    This species of soul …
                                           Not until the day after tomorrow …
    Today I want to get ready,
    I want to get ready to think tomorrow about the day after …
    That will be the decisive one.
    I’ve already planned it out; but no, today I’m not planning
          anything.
    Tomorrow is the day for plans.
    Tomorrow I will sit at my desk to conquer the world,
    But I’ll conquer the world the day after tomorrow  …
    I feel like crying,
    I suddenly feel, deep within, like crying.
    No, don’t try to find out any more, it’s a secret, I’m not telling.
    Not until the day after tomorrow …

    When I was a child I was amused by the Sunday circus every week.
    Today I’m only amused by the Sunday circus of every week of my childhood.
    The day after tomorrow I’ll be different,
    My life will triumph,
    All of my real qualities of intelligence, erudition and practicality
    Will be convened by an official announcement,
    But by an announcement to be made tomorrow …
    Today I want to sleep; I’ll draft announcements tomorrow …
    For today, what show is playing that would reenact my childhood?
    I’ll be sure to buy tickets tomorrow,
    Since the day after tomorrow is when I want to go,
    Not before… 
    The day after tomorrow I’ll have the public image which tomorrow
            I’ll rehearse.
    The day after tomorrow I’ll finally be what today I could never be.
    The day after tomorrow, not before …

    I feel tired the way a stray dog feels cold.
    I feel very tired.
    Tomorrow I’ll explain it to you, or the day after tomorrow …
    Yes, perhaps not until the day after tomorrow …

    The future …
    Yes, the future …

    Fernando Pessoa

    • 3 months ago
    • #Fernando Pessoa
  • Source: youtube.com
    • 3 months ago
  • He Has Left Us Alone but Shafts of Light Sometimes Grace the Corner of Our Rooms…

    Source: youtube.com
    • 3 months ago
    • 1 notes
  • In many shamanic societies, if you came to a medicine person complaining of being disheartened, dispirited, or depressed, they would ask one of four questions: When did you stop dancing? When did you stop singing? When did you stop being enchanted by stories? When did you stop finding comfort in the sweet territory of silence? — Gabrielle Roth

    • 3 months ago
  • Source: likeafieldmouse
    • 3 months ago
    • 1874 notes
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