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Eriana Renae

@erianarenae

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tasting | exploring | telling stories | New York 🏙🖊🥂🥐
📚: @alittlelitnyc

POSTS STORIES REELS

☀️🌸🍒🍸🎂✨ by @erianarenae

like stepping into a hot shower at the end of a long day
crawling into a bed of crisp, clean sheets
waking up to birdsong and soft sunlight
taking the first sip of cool water in the morning

like savoring the first bite of a New York slice
or the last bite of a chocolate chip cookie
sweetness lingering on the tongue

like halcyon days passing through memory
rousing a wave of joy, bliss—

bliss like turning another page and another page
as it gets better and better and better

and better like the view the higher you go
then always finding ground again

breathing in ocean air
fresh coffee
pine

like strolling through the streets of Paris
faint notes of butter, notes of brass
smooth like that
rich like that

that’s what it’s like
to love you

♥️ by @erianarenae

some thoughts and feelings (read: brain dump) about turning 30 👉🏼

📸: @evoabrams by @erianarenae

for Teta 🤍

I find her in her armchair
on any crisp California morning
amidst the hum of daytime television
peeling pomegranates, almonds, fava beans
into a wooden bowl on her lap
with strong, soft hands
the ones she used to core the kousa,
squeeze the lemons,
hold her babies,
build a home, a family
from the Mediterranean to the Pacific
and back
around the block, across state lines
and phone lines
over Arabic coffee grounds at the bottom of a cup
and afternoon feasts from her stovetop
by her reach
we all knew endless love
and the sweet refrain of laughter
we’ll remember by heart by @erianarenae

When they say, “Close your eyes and picture your happy place…”

Still thinking about @getawayhouse and planning a longer trip next time. 😍 by @erianarenae

find me where the fields are painted gold 🌼 by @erianarenae

All about the view these days. by @erianarenae

I heard a little something about Saturn returning, and I’m into it. 🪐 by @erianarenae

In the middle of 2020, I quit the job I was at and spent two months writing every day at my kitchen table. I was writing pieces of my own story—my childhood, the seven years I’d lived in New York, my time in France, heartbreak and confusion and love and revelation—piecing together what I had learned and how I had grown and the narrative I saw in it all. Writing everything first by hand in a spiral-bound notebook, I emptied three pens of their ink and kept them. It felt like the end of a lot and the beginning of more, and I had to capture the former before moving forward. I still hope to make something of those stories; I hope to make something of a lot of stories floating around in my head on most days, and on most days I wonder if I have it in me. A couple weeks ago, I found the pens with their chewed up ends and framed them as a reminder of what I have done, what I can do, and what I will do again. It’s history and possibility and prompting. And I like seeing it every day. 😌 by @erianarenae

Waves in August // W.S. Merwin

There is a war in the distance
with the distance growing smaller
the field glasses lying at hand
are for keeping it far away

I thought I was getting better
about that returning childish
wish to be living somewhere else
that I knew was impossible
and now I find myself wishing
to be here to be alive here
it is impossible enough
to still be the wish of a child

in youth I hid a boat under
the bushes beside the water
knowing I would want it later
and come back and would find it there
someone else took it and left me
instead the sound of the water
with its whisper of vertigo

terror reassurance an old
old sadness it would seem we knew
enough always about parting
but we have to go on learning
as long as there is anything by @erianarenae

Waves in June // 6.29.21 💭🌊

Can I worship with sadness
or is that ungratefulness?
By asking for more, greed or faith?

I’m unlearning and re-learning
beliefs change
truths rise to the surface
as I stare down at my reflection
which is disrupted by an eruption
from the depths.

Surfaces are deceptive
so I ask a lot of questions.

Can I worship with inquisitiveness
or is that doubt?
How much room is there for my feelings?
I’m told they’re deceptive
so what are they trying to lie about?

I wish I could run without moving.
I wish I could stay without staying still.
I’m here still. Here always.
But so far from where I once was.

Was once heartache, pain
Now, sadness
Was once fear
Now, hope
Sow in tears, reap joy
I am planting.

An act of worship,
of faith.
It is longing and expectation and honesty.

I wish I could hide and avoid obscurity.
I wish I could tell you everything and avoid saying anything.
Is it complicated or just difficult?

The pond is not large enough
for these emotions, the questions
but maybe the ocean is.
Maybe the horizon is closer than it looks.
Maybe the waves will carry me to it
as the seeds take root
and something grows. by @erianarenae

Ever hear the story of Clytie? 🌻 by @erianarenae