law grrrl

law student...finding solace in solitude. queer chamorrita, learning the art of practicing self-love. CROSSING BORDERS on the daily, socalifas por vida, puromexicoenmicorazón.

Intimacy builds worlds; it creates spaces and usurps places meant for other kinds of relation. Its potential failure to stabilize closeness always haunts its persistent activity, making the very attachments deemed to buttress ‘a life’ seem in a state of constant if latent vulnerability. Even from this small cluster of examples and scenes it becomes clear that virtually no one knows how to do intimacy; that everyone feels expert about it (at least about other people’s disasters); and that mass fascination with the aggression, incoherence, vulnerability, and ambivalence at the scene of desire somehow escalates the demand for the traditional promise of intimate happiness to be fulfilled in everyone’s everyday life.

—Lauren Berlant, “Intimacy: A Special Issue” (1998)

(via mayachapina)

Me gustas por que tu boca sabe gritar rebeldia

—Mario Benedetti (Uruguay,1920-2009)

(Source: enalgunagalaxia, via dflovesfk)

We are travelers on a cosmic journey, stardust, swirling and dancing in the eddies and whirlpools of infinity. Life is eternal. We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other, to meet, to love, to share.This is a precious moment.

—Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist (via wethinkwedream)

(via justlikemiel)

mujer-encabronada:

—Chicana Lesbians; the Girls Our Mothers Warned Us About,
edited by Carla Trujillo
(i just keep reading it and reading it even though there are other books i haven’t read and am meaning to)

mujer-encabronada:

—Chicana Lesbians; the Girls Our Mothers Warned Us About,

edited by Carla Trujillo

(i just keep reading it and reading it even though there are other books i haven’t read and am meaning to)

(via tonanzin-x)

Siento que
en cada esquina y rincón de este desierto de desesperación
miles de bosques tiernos
surgen
de repente de la tierra.

—Fragmento, Ahmad Shamlú (via poesianoerestu)

My mother learned
the english language
so when she spoke,
others would listen.

When she cries,
I hear her
native tongue.

When she cries,
I know how long
she has been silent.

—||  Maza-Dohta  (via maza-dohta)

(via maza-dohta)

My brain hums with scraps of poetry and madness.

—Virginia Woolf (via iamdeeplyrooted)