Recommendations? Which book should I start with?
The Emperor’s castle originates from a mythical and ancient tale hidden within a woodblock landscape scene created by Japanese Ukiyo-e printmaker, Ando Hiroshige. This tale charts the story of two star-crossed lovers, the weaving Princess and the Cowherd who have been separated by the Princess’s father, the Emperor. These characters have been replaced by architectonic metaphors creating an urban theatre within the grounds of the Imperial Palace in central Tokyo.
Kyle Broflovski (via palcota)
There are some days when I drop my plans and ambitions and recognise that what matters is that I get through safely. And that’s ok. If eating take-out and watching House and reading a novel means I can make it then that’s a good call. If I spend my time moving from one distraction to another and balancing up my feelings and giving myself space then that is good and responsible and smart.
(Art therapy was hard today.)
- Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat Pray Love
I’m trying to work out what the words are - for the town where I grew up (prosperous), the city I’m in now (I don’t know), for myself (trust, maybe?)
half of On Looking (John Berger)
all of Plain Modern (Brian MacKay Lyons)
all of Mecanoo (Francine Houben)
two or three chapters of Mythologies (Roland Barthes)
and a relevant extract of Soie (Alessandro Baricco)
(this is to remind myself that I have been productive and done useful things even though it doesn’t feel as though I have)
Obviously, it was a surprise to find that one was insane. But what surprised George most was how painful it was.
It had never occurred to him before. His uncle, those unwashed people who shouted at buses, Alex Bamford that Christmas… Crazy was the word he had always used. As in crazy paving, or crazy golf. Everything jumbled and out of order and rather amusing.
It seemed less amusing now. Indeed, when he thought about his uncle stuck in St Edward’s for ten years without a visit from his family, or that dishevelled man who tap-danced for small change in Church Street, he could feel the corners of his eyes pricking.
If he were given the choice he would rather someone had broken his leg. You did not have to explain what was wrong with a broken leg. Nor were you expected to mend it by force of will.
The terror came and went in waves."
Mark Haddon, A Spot of Bother