banner
LightNews
sanctorium.bsky.social
@sanctorium.bsky.social
1.6K followers 740 following 2.9K posts
photography, writing header: Alice Oswald, Falling Awake
Posts Media Videos Starter Packs
Pinned
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · Nov 12
I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear.

Sylvia Plath, The Morning Song
3 34 350
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 10h
1 6
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 11h
1 5
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 11h
An Urban Allegory

A short film by Alice Rohrwacher and JR based on Plato's Allegory of the cave, starring Lyna Khoudri, Naïm El Kaldaoui and Leos Carax
1 4
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 13h
“Hello and good-bye." What else is there to say? Our language is much larger than it needs to be.

Kurt Vonnegut
12
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 16h
So rapid is the flight of dreams upon the wings of imagination.

Alexandre Dumas
A forest scape in blue light, the light of dreams
1 21
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 19h
in the air by the wind, tiny ghosts
wind-flying seeds, tiny clouds
4 17
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 19h
🤍
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 21h
Emily Dickinson
9 22
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 21h
unspoken
shadows of branches, like roots
1 18
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 21h
leaves gathered
leaves piled on small cast iron urn sat on grey marble slab
17
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 22h
the day began with nuance
A sliver of forest
2 11
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 1d
She stood , listening to the owl, and fell into a tranced sleep, dreaming in another world, the one inside this one.
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 1d
She listens to the whispers
A deer cracks the silence
1
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 1d
she is not alone
1 1
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 1d
A figure in long white runs barefoot across the field, across the line of field and woods, out of sight now.
a faint line of distant woodland in a white scape
1 14
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 1d
every word, oh so, Christina 🤍
1
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 1d
I am always awed, Carax.
1 11
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 1d
You know, when you want to disappear into the night with film and a glass of red. Bonne nuit!

Leos Carax, C’est pas moi
1 7
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 1d
Exquisite
dreamsofbeing.bsky.social
Christina Tudor-Sideri @dreamsofbeing.bsky.social · 1d
For the inaugural issue of Draught Journal @draughtjournal.bsky.social:

On Bookmarks and Other Ruins—a reflection on the bookmark as a fragile site of memory, desire, and incompletion, accompanied by images of my own bookmarks.

draughtjournal.com/article/on-b...
On Bookmarks and Other Ruins
<p>There is something indescribably intimate about the act of interrupting one’s reading, the act of marking one’s place in a book, a subtle gesture t
draughtjournal.com
1 10
Reposted
brokensleepbooks.bsky.social
Broken Sleep Books @brokensleepbooks.bsky.social · 1d
Róisín Ní Neachtain's I, bird is a fragmented, lyrical reckoning with grief, trauma, and the porous boundary between body and voice. @roisinnineachtain

www.brokensleepbooks.com/product-page...
Minimalist book cover for “I, bird” by Róisín Ní Neachtain; the coral-red title sits at top left above the author’s name; below, a dark, sweeping tree branch with sparse red leaves spans the page, from which a simple wooden swing hangs on thin ropes; “Broken Sleep Books” appears small at the bottom. THE WHITE ROOM MEDUSA This is a square, empty room in which there is one window. You can’t see a door and you have no idea how you got in. The window is too small to have entered through. You are not in your usual clothes but it’s not in a straitjacket either. You find no relief in this. You are frozen against the floor. The floor is strangely soft but provides you with no comfort. This is a clinical space and not the type of hospital you have been forced to stay in. For a moment you think it is no different to White Cube. This isn’t a hospital. This is not an experiment. You are part of an exhibition. You are the exhibition. All eyes are on you and you must perform. It would be something not to perform. It would be something to lie here perfectly still and immobile, both in body and mind. You would not think about solitary confinement. You would not recite poetry in your head. You would not try to count time. You would not try to stay sane. How different would it be from outside of these walls really?
1 1 4
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 1d
Quite.
1
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 1d
you are a rare comet

Joseph Beuys, Comet, 1955-56
watercolour of a comet in paled hues of brown and cream
6 34
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 1d
Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake.

Wallace Stevens
man on his back by clouded lake, embroidered gauntlet gloved hand raised
1 2 18
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 1d
Raymond Coxon. Blue Bird, 1968
5 18
sanctorium.bsky.social
sanctorium.bsky.social @sanctorium.bsky.social · 1d
Paul Celan, Lightduress; tr. Pierre Joris
1 12