The Project Zomboid Devs Do Not Get Enough Shit For Making Eating Vegetables Give Your Player Character

It seemed to me that I had dreamt about her once, when I was a boy or a teenager: a dream with the scent of orange trees in blossom.

– Agustín Cadena, from “Murillo Park,” Three Messages and a Warning: Contemporary Mexican Short Stories of the Fantastic (Small Beer Press, 2011)

Jollipop Puppy

Ko-fi / Instagram

The endless summer, Fabien Muscio

— m.r.

memory landscapes

drypoint needle

I am myn owene woman, wel at ese, I thank it god, as after myn estat; Right yong, and stonde unteyd in lusty lese, With-outen Ialousye or swich debat; Shal noon housbonde seyn to me “Chekmat!” For either they ben ful of Ialousye, Or maisterful, or loven novelrye.

[…]

                                 Allas! Sin I am free, Sholde I now love, and putte in Iupartye My sikernesse, and thrallen libertee? Allas! How dorste I thenken that folye? May I nought wel in other folk aspye  775 Hir dredful Ioye, hir constreynt, and hir peyne? Ther loveth noon, that she nath why to pleyne.

Criseyde in Geoffrey Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde (ll. 750-756, 771-777)

you can be a dickhead to me but my whimsy will always haunt your narrative

"So much more was said in the unsaid."

– Bridgett Devoue

“Lat be thy wepyng and thi drerynesse, And lat us lissen wo with oother speche; So may thy woful tme seme lesse.”

—

Geoffrey Chaucer, Troilus and Criseyde (Norton Critical Editions)

“Leave your anguish, leave your sighs, and mitigate your sorrow by talking, becase doing this makes suffering pass…”

Giovanni Boccaccio, Il Filostrato (Norton Critical Editions)