escaping words ... from my brain

This is where my procrastination-induced and complaint-filled entries lived while I was studying for the bar. Now, I suppose, it's a random space where shorter posts will hang out, eat snacks, and talk about me behind my back.

Writings that take more time will live at my regular blog at escaping words.

(via pauldateh)


Railroad tracks turn into canvases. Via Lost at E Minor



THIS, exactly this. [WHAT WE SEE WHEN WE READ, Peter Mendelsund]

I can’t wait to read this book! 


From REBORN by Susan Sontag.


Caminante, son tus huellas
el camino, y nada más;
caminante, no hay camino,
se hace camino al andar.
Al andar se hace camino,
y al volver la vista atrás
se ve la senda que nunca
se ha de volver a pisar.
Caminante, no hay camino,
sino estelas en la mar.

—Antonio Machado

I am reading Helen Oyeyemi’s Boy, Snow, Bird right now, and some lines from this poem make an appearance. Lovely.


Wanderer, your footsteps are
the road, and nothing more;
wanderer, there is no road,
the road is made by walking.
By walking one makes the road,
and upon glancing back
one sees the path
that will never be trod again.
Wanderer, there is no road—
Only foam in the sea.

Here’s another translation:

Traveler, the path is made
by your passage, nothing more;
Traveler, there is no roadway,
for it is made as you journey.
By walking you make the way,
and turning, you look back to see
a path which you will never tread again.
Traveler, there is no roadway,
save the wild sea’s wake.


Just when I think, hey, that was a pretty nice day, it’s even not a million degrees out — a rat slams straight into the back of my foot. We are both taken aback.

this is fucking amazing.


Have a great weekend! 

By @dublinbymouth