I Created A Griffinch Picrew Where You Can Make Your Own Little Griffinch. I Would Love To See What You

I created a Griffinch Picrew where you can make your own little Griffinch. I would love to see what you make!

Picrew

Griffinch Maker

Dress-up your own Griffinch! Illustrated by @avian_aves (the creator of the Griffinch) on Twitter. You may use the image for personal use.

“One thinks one has cut oneself off from the world, but it is enough to see an olive tree upright in the golden dust, or beaches glistening in the morning sun, to feel this separation melt away.”

— Albert Camus in January 1936, from Notebooks 1935-1942; tr. by Philip Thody   (via tamsoj)

Kate Cayley, Lent

Vegan Strawberry Shortcake

Full Moons 2023

“A week [after Sven’s funeral], I’m cooking fish on a wood fire outside and my son, Yves, brings me a glass of wine to drink and holds a bowl of olives. It’s getting dark and my eyes are sore from the smoke, so I feel for a couple with my fingers without looking, and pop one into my mouth. As I spit out the stone and try to define the flavour–sharp, bitter-black, Greek–a thought crosses my mind: From now on I taste olives for Sven too.”

John Berger, ‘Et in Arcadia Ego’, Confabulations

“The woman sets the table. She watches me beat the eggs. I scramble them in a saucepan, as my now-dead friend taught me; they stand deeper and cook softer, he said. I take our plated, spoon eggs on them, we sit and eat.”

Andre Dubus, “On Charon’s Wharf”, Broken Vessels

“When a dead tree falls in a forest it often falls into the arms of a living tree. The dead, thus embraced, rasp in wind, slowly carving a niche in the living branch, shearing away the rough outer flesh, revealing the pinkish, yellowish, feverish inner bark. For years the dead tree rubs its fallen body against the living, building its dead music, making its raw mark, wearing the tough bough down as it moans and bends, the deep rosined bow sound of the living shouldering the dead.”

Dorianne Laux, “Cello”