menstruation is not only blood. it’s back pain, chest pain, bloated tummy, dry skin, pimples, the urge to kill, dysmenorrhea

کاش یه چیزی داشتیم به اسم مرخصی روزهای بارونی
که تو روزای بارونی بهت اجازه میدادن بمونی خونه بری زیر پتو

Summer haze
“August of another summer, and once again
I drink the sun
and the lilies are spread across the water”
-Mary Oliver, from Felicity, The pond

I find me, leave me, go towards me, come from me, nothing ever but me, a particle of me, retrieved, lost, gone astray, I’m all these words, all these strangers, this dust of words, with no ground for their settling, no sky for their dispersing, coming together to say, fleeing one another to say, that I am they, all of them, those that merge, those that part, those that never meet, and nothing else, yes, something else, that I’m something quite different, a quite different thing, a wordless thing in an empty place, a hard shut dry cold black place, where nothing stirs, nothing speaks, and that I listen, and that I seek, like a caged beast born of caged beasts born of caged beasts born of caged beasts...

- Samuel Beckett, The Unnamable, 1953