Listening to the rain ☔️ & reading an entry in Clarice Lispector’s *The Complete Crônicas*
1969:
IF YOU MUST WRITE SOMETHING…
If you must write something, at least don't squash the words that are there in between the lines.
LOVE FOR THE EARTH
Orange on the table. Blessed be the tree that brought you into the world. 
“THE WRONG KIND OF KINDNESS
Y with her enormously compassionate intelligence, devoting herself to not being human, in the sense that being human also means having faults and occasional temper tantrums. She devotes herself to understanding others by forgiving them. Her heart has no place for me because it requires me to be ad-mirable. Everyone turns to her whenever they're in difficulty and she, "consoler-in-chief, understands, understands, under-stands. My great pride: I need to be met out in the street.” ~Clarice Lispector
All in a page:
“June 14, 1969
A SOMEWHAT BENEVOLENT SELF-CRITIQUE
I have to be kind because, if I were too cutting, I might never write again. And I want to write, some day anyway. Although I feel that if I do go back to writing, it will be in a different way from my old style: different how? I don't care.
My self-criticism of certain things I write, for example, isn't bothered about whether they're good or bad: but they need to…”
~Clarice Lispector
next page to finish the quote.
…”reach the point where pain mingles with profound happines and happiness becomes painful — therein lies life's sting. And I so often failed to describe the maximal encounter between a being and the self, the kind that makes us cry our in surprise: "Ah!" Sometimes that encounter with oné's self is achieved through the meeting of one being with another being….” #ClariceLispector #books
Night ☔️ 
