Veronika Fuchs
LightNews LightNews
banner
veronikafuchs.bsky.social
Veronika Fuchs
@veronikafuchs.bsky.social
240 followers 170 following 490 posts
Writer. Mama. Dreamer. Occasional painter.
Posts Replies Media Videos
veronikafuchs.bsky.social
In case you wonder what human tears look like.

Micrograph by Jean Langevin (polarized light)
Micrograph of human tear crystals resembling ferns and flowers, or frost patterns on a window, black and white
January 30, 2026 at 5:47 PM
Reposted by Veronika Fuchs
timhuijts.bsky.social
this path once not taken
now walked every night
Photo of a winter landscape through the damp window of a train.
January 27, 2026 at 9:33 PM
veronikafuchs.bsky.social
Every day there are new horrors, and disgust, and despair. But also, beauty... As @susanlleary.bsky.social writes in her poem Idle: "Despite madness, beauty. Despite common sense, an idyllic / garden, which in time, makes us ignorant once more."
You can talk about the human heart without apology.
January 28, 2026 at 5:40 PM
veronikafuchs.bsky.social
On a January morning—

"I want to lie down with the snow.
I want the wild lilies to break their silence."

(by Daniel Simko, from THE ARRIVAL)
Text: "January" Hell bent blue moon, yellow eye of dust. Cold irreparable desire. I have been trying to explain something all night. I am no longer sure of the subject. St. George, the defender, freezes over. There is still something I want to say, but not here. I want to lie down with the snow. I want the wild lilies to break their silence.
January 27, 2026 at 5:56 PM
veronikafuchs.bsky.social
Charles Simic 🖤
Text: CHARLES SIMIC ROMANTIC LANDSCAPE To grieve, always to suffer At the thought of time passing. The outside world shadowy As your deepest self. Melancholy meadows, trees so still, They seem afraid of themselves. The sunset sky for one brief moment Radiant with some supreme insight, And then it's over. Tragic theater: Blood and mourning at which Even the birds fell silent. Spirit, you who are everywhere and nowhere, Watch over the lost lamb Now that the mouth of the infinite Opens over us, And its dumb tongue begins to move darkly.
January 25, 2026 at 5:39 AM
Reposted by Veronika Fuchs
lecartographe.bsky.social
Sun in an empty room - Edward Hopper, 1965.
Source : Collection privée
January 24, 2026 at 5:43 AM
veronikafuchs.bsky.social
Was looking for something else and found a photo from another life. I see this place in my dreams. But even in my dreams, I mourn the impossibility of return, even if *return* could well be real. It is such a strange experience to know the ghost of yourself.
View from the mountain: a chain of distant mountains, a reservoir, forests, a field of green rye
January 24, 2026 at 6:56 PM
Reposted by Veronika Fuchs
tomsnarsky.bsky.social
or the deer all lowering their heads

Linda Gregg
THE RIVER AGAIN AND AGAIN If I could show you how repetition helps us to understand the truth. If we stayed with each other long enough to see the seasons return, to see the young animals and the opening of peonies and summer heat. Then we could make sense of the hawk’s calm or the deer all lowering their heads again and continuing to eat. And we would know each other sometimes with a love that touches indifference.
January 21, 2026 at 3:17 AM
veronikafuchs.bsky.social
Didn't know I needed this book until I read it. A dream?... A nightmare. (Thank you @liamsprod.bsky.social for "recommending" it; I saw it in one of your posts)
Cover of Marlen Haushofer's book The Wall
January 21, 2026 at 6:46 AM
Reposted by Veronika Fuchs
monostich.bsky.social
An excuse to share this. www.metphrastics.com/issue-1/#sum...
January 20, 2026 at 2:16 AM
Reposted by Veronika Fuchs
kossworks.bsky.social
This. Book. Is Gorgeous. Thank you, @susanlleary.bsky.social for your words! You can preorder and have in your hands soon here: triohousepress.myshopify.com/products/mor...
January 19, 2026 at 3:45 PM
veronikafuchs.bsky.social
Was admiring the beautiful sunset after sick days spent indoors
Sunset in shades of pink, orange, and gold. Bare tree branches.
January 21, 2026 at 5:49 AM
Reposted by Veronika Fuchs
alinaetc.bsky.social
Some memories feel vibrant, almost inhabited, while others, most, are like near-transparent overlays.

- Sven Bikerts in The Common
www.thecommononline.org/thirty-seven...
Thirty-Seven Theses on Time and Memory
SVEN BIRKERTS <br> Why do we keep hold of certain things, and nothing of others? Now I can remember, with almost cinematic granularity, an afternoon when a veterinarian came to our fifth-grade class t...
www.thecommononline.org
January 13, 2026 at 4:57 PM
Reposted by Veronika Fuchs
alinaetc.bsky.social
The dawns in Vuillard’s shadows. 🖤
January 15, 2026 at 3:44 AM
veronikafuchs.bsky.social
New? diptych by Jaume Llorens,
"Snow-covered mountains and the water of the lake" ❤️
A pair of B&W photographs with an invisible transition from one to the other. Top photograph: mountain ranges, the far one covered with snow. Bottom photograph: the water of the lake.
January 15, 2026 at 5:54 AM
veronikafuchs.bsky.social
Today's poem (Daily Poem) from the Paris Review, "The Man in the Room, after Rembrandt" by Mark Rudman
Text: Mark Rudman The Man In The Room after Rembrandt That it could all come down to a man in a room empty but for a ray of light he resisted, seated in a massive darkness that was all shadow. The walls were porous but he never breathed. He could have moved into the light, been for an instant more visible than the darkness threatening to meld him with wood. His skin cracked. With all that dust in the light he must have known that outside people were on their way, their feet raised the dust off the street, bringing it into the light where it was lost. Oil painting "A Man seated reading at a Table in a Lofty Room" Description from the National Gallery: A lonely figure seated in front of a huge volume open on the table before him. Brilliant sunlight floods through the gloom onto the wall of the room. ... In the deep shadows beyond these highlights we can make out shelves of books and two globes mounted on the wall above them.
January 14, 2026 at 5:50 PM
Reposted by Veronika Fuchs
kimdorman.bsky.social
Faced with the unutterable, words still disintegrate . . .
And ever new, out of the most quivering
stones, music builds her divine house in useless space.

-Rainer Maria Rilke
(tr. A. Poulin, Jr.)
January 14, 2026 at 6:25 AM
veronikafuchs.bsky.social
Winterscape with yarrow
Watercolor painting of a winter landscape: a snow-covered field with silhouettes of trees in the distance, forming something like an island in an ocean of white under an overcast sky. In the foreground, a dry, lonely-looking yarrow adds to the sense of alienation. I think it's cold there.
January 14, 2026 at 4:43 PM
Reposted by Veronika Fuchs
tomsnarsky.bsky.social
the endless ground of your own deep pulse,

Rainer Maria Rilke, tr. David Young
Be ahead of all partings, as if they were behind you, like the winter that’s just past. For among the winters is one so endlessly winter that your heart, if you overwinter, can survive it. Be dead in Eurydice, always—, climb with more song, climb with more praise, back up into pure relation. Here in the kingdom of decay, among what’s wasting, be a tingling glass that shatters itself with sound. Exist while you know the state of nonexistence, the endless ground of your own deep pulse, so that you can fulfill it completely this one time. With the used-up, as well as the muffled and useless stock of full nature, the unreckoned sum, count yourself in, rejoicing, and then demolish the count.
January 10, 2026 at 7:53 PM
Reposted by Veronika Fuchs
maryfrancesness.bsky.social
lost & found

sorting through much older work to mix for a new project - so happy to discover some long lost memories
January 9, 2026 at 6:39 PM
veronikafuchs.bsky.social
"How every apple is the poison apple. How rosy the skin. How sweet the flesh. How to suck the apple's poison is the one true meal, the invocation and the Last Supper."

Diane Seuss, [Here on this edge I have had many diminutive visions.]

poems.com/poem/here-on...
[Here on this edge I have had many diminutive visions.]
Here on this edge I have had many diminutive visions. That all at its essence is dove-gray. Wipe the lipstick off the mouth of anything and there you will find dove-gray. With my thumb I have smudged ...
poems.com
January 10, 2026 at 4:18 PM
veronikafuchs.bsky.social
Life
Withered rose flowers on a living stem An acorn with a small hole in it (made by a weevil?) nestled comfortably in the bark of an oak tree A hand holding three pine cones of different sizes
January 10, 2026 at 4:10 PM
Reposted by Veronika Fuchs
triohousepress.org
We are celebrating the upcoming release of @susanlleary.bsky.social’s More Flowers by offering you a special deal! Get a copy of Dressing the Bear for 50% off with every order of My Flowers this January: triohousepress.myshopify.com/products/mor...
January 7, 2026 at 5:28 PM
Reposted by Veronika Fuchs
deborahzafer.bsky.social
Louise Glück
A Work of Fiction
January 7, 2026 at 7:35 AM
veronikafuchs.bsky.social
The sea in a glass
The hand holds a glass stained with turquoise, white, and gray paint on the inside; the pattern resembles waves.
January 7, 2026 at 7:32 PM