joytri:At midnight, in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon. Edgar Allan Poe, The Sleeper Jun 12th637 notesReblog
![[ID: Four or five years ago I realized I could not remember the sound of my mother’s voice anymore—it’s sudden right? / But that was me. I had to bury her again. There’s going to come a time where I don’t remember the color of my mother’s eyes and I’ll have to bury her again. / So all I’m doing in my work—hopefully I’m not orbiting mortality—I’m not having some kind of existential temper tantrum. / I’m preparing myself for a series of ongoing burials because that’s what grief is and hopefully in doing so it’s preparing the people I love for the reality that they will have to do this for me.]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/0a93b730b2449cd24922bef0f49f023c/e116cf4fb5b71d98-ea/s500x750/e61972743392bc4ca2d75de0bf14414a599586a5.jpg)