a matter of infinite hope

A 2L stumbling into adulthood. Delights in hot tea, books of all shapes and sizes, film photography, oil paintings, and the kindness of strangers.

The top image is (c) me, taken in Grand Teton, Wyoming.

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Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, Big Sur, California, United States

So excited. Going in August. 

The conservatory garden, central park.

Walking home is my favorite part of the day.

The Greek word for “return” is nostos. Algos means “suffering.” So nostalgia is the suffering caused by an unappeased yearning to return…. In that etymological light nostalgia seems something like the pain of ignorance, of not knowing. “You are far away, and I don’t know what has become of you.”
Ignorance, Milan Kundera
He was like a salutary tonic; with him, she could only inhabit a higher level of goodness.
Americanah, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
There were weeks that winter, cold and sunny weeks, when New Haven seemed lit from within, frosted snow clinging on shrubs, a festive quality to a world that seemed inhabited fully only by her and Blaine.
Americanah, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
The American embassy was better now; the staff was still rude, her father said, but you no longer had to fight and shove outside to get in line. They were given six-month visas. They came for three weeks. They seemed like strangers. They looked the same, but the dignity she remembered was gone, and left instead something small, a provincial eagerness. Her father marveled at the industrial carpeting in the hallway of her apartment building; her mother hoarded faux-leather handbags at Kmart, paper napkins from the mall food court, even plastic shopping bags. They both posed for photos in front of JC Penney, asking Ifemelu to make sure she got the entire sign of the store. She watched them with a sneer, and for this she felt guilty; she had guarded their memories so preciously and yet, finally seeing them, she watched them with a sneer.
Americanah, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
Ifemelu stared into her glass. There was something wrong with her. She did not know what it was but there was something wrong with her. A hunger, a restlessness. An incomplete knowledge of herself. The sense of something farther away, beyond her reach.
Americanah, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
After Ifemelu broke up with Curt, she told Ginika, ‘There was a feeling I wanted to feel that I did not feel.’ ‘What are you talking about? You cheated on him!’ Ginika shook her head as though Ifemelu were mad. ‘Ifem, honestly, sometimes I don’t understand you.’ It was true, she had cheated on Curt with a younger man who lived in her apartment building in Charles Village and played in a band. But it was also true that she had longed, with Curt, to hold emotions in her hand that she never could. She had not entirely believed herself while with him - happy, handsome Curt, with his ability to twist life into the shapes he wanted. She loved him, and the spirited easy life he gave her, and yet she often fought the urge to create rough edges, to squash his sunniness, even if just a little.
Americanah, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
The memory, clear as a light beam, took Obinze back to a time when he still believed the universe would bend according to his will.
Americanah, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie