Much of what happens to us in life is nameless because our vocabulary is too poor. Most stories get told out loud because the storyteller hopes that the telling of the story can transform a nameless event into a familiar or or intimate one. We tend to associate intimacy with closeness and closeness with a certain sum of shared experiences. Yet every day total strangers, who will never say a single word to one another, can share an intimacy. An intimacy contained in the exchange of a glance, a nod of the head, a smile, a shrug of a shoulder. A closeness which lasts for a second or for the duration of a song being sung and listened to together. An agreement about life. An agreement without clauses.
∆ John Berger, from ‘Some Notes About Song (for Yasmin Hamdan)’, Confabulations
I don’t know what they are called, the spaces between seconds – but I think of you always in those intervals.
∆ Salvador Plascencia, from The People of Paper (McSweeney’s, 2005)
When Anaïs Nin said “I don’t want worship. I want understanding,” and when George Orwell said “Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood,” and when Marina Tsvetaeva said “In my early childhood, for as long as I can remember, I thought that I wanted to be loved. Now I know and tell everyone: I don’t need love, I need understanding.”
when Joni Mitchell said “i wanna talk to you, i wanna shampoo you, i wanna renew you again and again,” and when she said, “i wanna knit you a sweater, wanna write you a love letter, i wanna make you feel better, i wanna make you feel free.” - via tendernotion