Grooms seeing their brides for the first time on their wedding day.
“We are never so vulnerable as when we love.”
Me, leaving. You, going — the distance between us stretching across state lines that for me hold oceans between them. Please. I press my lips against your skin like a plea. Your fingers between mine are prayers that I’ve been trying to find the words for since the first time I woke up from a dream about angels to see you looking at me with the sky in your eyes. The worst part about being human is having a heart so susceptible to metaphors…. I don’t want to think of all those suns that will rise without you. — Shinji Moon
Here’s what our parents never taught us: You will stay up on your rooftop until sunlight peels away the husk of the moon, chain smoking cigarettes and reading Baudelaire, and you will learn that you only ever want to fall in love with someone who will stay up to watch the sun rise with you. You will fall in love with train rides, and sooner or later you will realize that nowhere seems like home anymore. A woman will kiss you and you’ll think her lips are two petals rubbing against your mouth. You will not tell anyone that you liked it. It’s okay. It is beautiful to love humans in a world where love is a metaphor for lust. You can leave if you want, with only your skin as a carry-on. All you need is a twenty in your pocket and a bus ticket. All you need is someone on the other end of the map, thinking about the supple curves of your body, to guide you to a home that stretches out for miles and miles on end. You will lie to everyone you love. They will love you anyway. One day you’ll wake up and realize that you are too big for your own skin. Molt. Don’t be afraid. Your body is a house where the shutters blow in and out against the windowpane. You are a hurricane-prone area. The glass will break through often. But it’s okay. I promise. Remember, a stranger once told you that the breeze here is something worth writing poems about. -Shinji Moon, Here’s What Our Parents Never Taught Us
Find a complete stranger.
Reveal to each other intimate details about your lives for half an hour.
Then, stare deeply into each other’s eyes without talking for four minutes.
York psychologist, Professor Arthur Arun, has been studying why people fall in love.
He asked his subjects to carry out the above 3 steps and found that many of his couples felt deeply attracted after the 34 minute experiment. Two of his subjects later got married.
Parenting: you are doing it right.
Misao and Fukumaru. “We will never be apart.”
12 years ago, Japanese photographer, Miyoko Ihara (伊原 美代子) started to take photographs of her grandmother, Misao. Born in 1981 in Chiba (Japan), Miyoko Ihara has studied under Kenji Higuchi (樋口健二), after graduating from the Press Photography Course at the Nippon Photography Institute in 2002. Miyoko is also a member of The Photographic Society of Japan.”
“Under the sun, everyday is a good day. Another good day, Fukumaru”, Misao. Eight years ago, Misao found a odd-eyed kitten in the shed. She named the cat “Fukumaru” in hope that “God of fuku” (good fortune) comes and everything will be smoothed like a “maru” (circle)”.
“We’ll never be apart!”, says Misao to Fukumaru. Both of them live in a tiny world, with dignity, with mutual love. Still today, under the blue sky, Misao and Fukumaro work in the fields and in these natural surroundings, where they shine like the stars.”
you are my sweetest downfall
by Sarah Kay
The first love of my life never saw me naked.
There was always a parent coming home in a half hour,
Always a little brother in the next room,
Always too much body and not enough time for me to show him.
Instead I gave him my shoulder, my elbow, a bend of my knee.
I lent him my corners, my edges,
The parts of me I could afford to offer,
The parts I had long since given up trying to hide.
He never asked for more.
He gave me back his eyelashes, the back of his neck, his palms,
We held each piece we were given like it was a nectarine,
Could bruise if we weren’t careful.
We collected them like we were trying to build an orchard.
And the spaces he never saw,
The ones my parents had labelled “private parts”
When I was still small enough to fit all of myself and worries inside a bathtub,
I made up for them by handing over all the private parts of me.
There was no secret I didn’t tell him,
There was no moment I didn’t share,
We didn’t grow up, we grew in
Like ivy wrapping, molding each other into perfect yings and yangs.
We kissed with mouths open,
Breathing his exhale into my inhale,
We could’ve survived underwater or outerspace,
Living only off the breath we traded,
We spelled love G-I-V-E.
I never wanted to hide my body from him.
If I could have I would have given it all away with the rest of me.
I did not know it was possible to save some things for myself.
Some nights I wake up knowing he’s anxious.
He’s accross the world in another woman’s arms
And the years have spread us like dandelion seeds.
Sending down the edges of our jigsaw parts that used to only fit each other.
He drinks from the pitcher on the nightstand,
Checks the digital clock: it is 5 am,
He tosses in sheets and tries to settle,
I wait for him to sleep before tucking myself
Into elbows and knees,
Reaching for things I have long since given away.
An Origin Story by Sarah Kay/Phil Kaye
“…I have seen the best of you and the worst of you and I choose both. I want to share every single one of your sunshines and save them for later. I want to tuck them into my pockets and give them back to you when the rains fall hard. I want to be the mirror that reminds you to love yourself. I want to be the air in your lungs to remind you to breathe easy. When the walls come down, when the thunder rumbles, hold my hand, and I promise, I won’t let go”