nprradiopictures:

Winter doldrums got you down? Have some hygge! The Danish word translates roughly to “cozy” — and we’re exploring what it looks like. Danish photographer Joakim Eskildsen shares his photos on The Picture Show.

How does hygge look to you? Add to Flickr or tag #hygge on Instagram! @npr

— Claire

One reason to love Denmark.

[image from carolinedaily.com]

—

I could tell you what the dark circles under my eyes mean, but words in real time spoken in real space to real people lost so much meaning when we stopped trusting each other so many years ago.  The elimination of trust brought with it the elimination of confiding, conversing, confessing, and, over the years, the words written on the page, spoken through characters and about characters, became the only words with meaning because I infused them with more truth and honesty and integrity than the words I offered you.

—

A recurring thought these weeks:  I’ll miss this university, this department, these professors when I’ve gone.  It’s been a long time coming, and, come June, I’ll be done — finally, finally, finally — and I’m relieved for it, happy to be moving on, but I find myself sitting in my classes this term, listening to professors I admire, thinking, Hey, I’m going to miss this.  I’m going to miss this a lot.

—

A passage from a book that clung with me:

Suddenly I’m frightened, Dov.  I feel a shiver, a coldness is seeping into my veins.  For once I think I understand.  What do I understand?  Is it possible you’ve come to say goodbye again?  That you intend to put an end — at last?

Wait, Dovik.  Don’t go.  Remember how I used to put you to sleep at night, always you wanted one more question?  Where does the sun go at night?  What do wolves eat?  Why is there only one of me?

One more question, Dovik.  One more song.  Five more minutes.

What would she do?

Where are you?  All your life I’ve been asking.

I’ll put on my shoes.  I’ll get down on my knees.  I’ll never mention it again.

I’ll do what your mother would have done.  I’ll call every hospital.

- Nicole Krauss, Great House, ‘True Kindness’

(:

identified:

freja beha for free people’s 2012 february catalogue

—

I love browsing and following blogs that feature personal photography, particularly analogue, because they make me think, Ah, so this is what the world looks like through someone else’s eyes. 

pureuda:

Backstage before their Grand Mint performance.

(Jaewon’s resigned smile of please pardon the weirdness and Jaekyung’s cool posing/expressions paired with Junghoon and Jongwan’s … well, Junghoon- and Jongwan-ness amuse me much — love this band dynamic, love this band, &c &c &c.

I am so stoked that these boys are back and releasing new music soon!  2012 gets an automatic win from this.)

After many, many long years (yes, four years are many, many long years), Nell is back.

Watch the teaser here!

one-day-or-another:

Freja Beha

15 days late, 2011 in photographs [of the sky]

The sky is never the same, is always changing, follows its own moods.  I find the sky to be God’s way of reminding us that He’s still around, that He’s still grander than anything man could ever design or build or create, that He’s faithful even when we are not.  There’s such a grandiose beauty to the sky that man in his limitations could never even begin to imagine, and it’s humbling, really, to stand under the open sky and realise the smallness of me, of man, of humanity.  There’s such exquisite beauty in that — and liberation because it’s a reminder of saving grace, whichever way anyone may choose to interpret it.

One of the joys of reading is always having a to-read pile of books.  Most times, this pile is always growing.  Sometimes, very rarely, if ever, it shrinks.  Always, it changes, what with new books being added to it and books being removed after being read and losing their to-read status.  Whatever the case, there’s always something new, a new author with whom to acquaint yourself, a new set of characters to meet, a new world to explore because the world of literature is expansive and no matter how voracious a reader you are, you’ll inevitably leave behind a pile of books you always meant to read but never had the chance to because you were reading something else — and that isn’t sad, really, but a wonderful thought, isn’t it?

Despite my partial resistance, I am a product of my generation, one among the army of iPad-toting, iPhone-usingwanting, MacBook Pro-depending young people Apple has produced (because Apple is indubitably a significant marker of my generation).  I’ve used most every major blogging platform out there at one point in my Internet life.  I overshare on Twitter.  I consider Facebook a pseudo-necessary evil.  I read blogs, watch television through the Internet,use iBooks and iTunes to browse books and music, and yet —

At the same time, there’s a lot of the so-called past I can’t let go.  It’s a relief to close the MacBook Pro, put away the iPad, and lose the phone from time to time.  I couldn’t even fathom living anywhere that didn’t have stacks of paperbacks everywhere.  I hold onto the nostalgia of film, both analogue and instant.  I’m writing my novel long-hand and carry a Moleskine and pen with me everywhere I go so I can jot down ideas for stories as they come.  I don’t understand how studying can be done without highlighter and pen, and so —

There’s this argument that you can’t have both worlds, but I disagree.  We live in a strange world of extremes; what’s with the it must be either this or that mentality, anyway?

We’re only three weeks into 2012, and change is already in the air.  Forty-nine more weeks to go, and we’ll be counting down the minutes into another ‘new’ year.

the clock is now ticking down; change is around the corner; and now i start to breathe easily.

[image from 2007 november issue of vogue italia, shot by paolo roversi, credit for the scan unknown.]