With a palm full of stars
I throw them like dice repeatedly
On the table repeatedly, repeatedly
Until the desired constellation appears
How am I going to make it right?
How am I going to make it right?

- Bjork

Sometimes she liked to pretend that she was a young girl again and everything was new.

Oh these little earthquakes
Here we go again
- Tori Amos

They told the broken dancer that she’d never dance again.

I can dance, she said.

No, they said, you’re broken. And they left her alone in the dark.

Then one day they found her on the floor with wings at her back and with a quiet smile she flew up into the sky.

And danced and danced and danced

“Is it bright where you are and have the people changed? Does it make you happy you’re so strange?” - Smashing Pumpkins

These are unfinished paintings inspired by the book Life of Pi - about a boy who, after a shipwreck, finds himself adrift in the Pacific ocean with an orangutan, a dying zebra, a hyena and a Bengal tiger. One of the parts I remember vividly is near the end of the story, when only the boy and the tiger are left and they finally reach an island. The tiger leaps out of the boat and pauses and the boy thinks it would stop and look at him for the last time but it doesn't. It bounds into the jungle and disappears from his life forever.

Sometimes I wish the tiger and the boy had one last farewell glance, a sort of acknowledgment of their many months in the boat together, lost at sea.

It was a slow and haunting dance of remembering

I go on to compare that infinite silence with this voice,
and I remember the eternal and the dead seasons,
and the living present, and its sound,
so that in this immensity my thoughts are drowned,
and shipwreck seems sweet to me
in this sea.

- Giacomo Leopardi

When the lights go out, the sea would rise at the foot of her bed, like magic.
The four winds would guide ships to faraway lands and the stars would gather around her,
whispering their secrets.

She made up her mind about her future on that long walk home.
When she arrived she went through all of her things and threw them out,
erasing herself quietly behind closed doors...

I guess we'll never know what she was thinking.
It's just as well.

- Rodrigo Garcia

My friend has a recurring nightmare where he finds himself in a world
where people are manufactured in factories and packed in tin cans.
I shudder to think of such a world.

"...but I will always remember the day that I met her."

We're all falling. This hand here is falling.
And look at the other one. It's in them all.

And yet there is someone, whose hands,
infinitely calm, holding up all this falling.

- Rainer Maria Rilke