the sky was on fire last night

if i look back, i am lost
h
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
AnasAbdin
Today's Document
hello vonnie

roma★
Misplaced Lens Cap

No title available
$LAYYYTER
Sade Olutola

No title available
Three Goblin Art
ojovivo
KIROKAZE
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Stranger Things

Discoholic 🪩

Andulka
art blog(derogatory)

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@256v-blog
the sky was on fire last night
Patience Sort turned 1 today!
I. Am. Groooooot.
Groot, Guardians of the Galaxy
Reasons.
Countdown
I want to believe that one day I'll look back on all of this and laugh and conclude that it was worth it. Or maybe not. For all I know, that goodbye was real and the last one I'll ever say to you. It seems like such an abrupt ending to something that was so great only twenty-four hours ago. There's a vague discomfort in my chest and a strange, salty liquid that won't stop oozing out of my eyeholes. I thought maybe this kind of thing would hurt less the second time around, but it doesn't. At all. I wanted to tell you what happened with the test today, but I doubt you're in a mood to hear about it. Is this is what it's like to really be alone?
house
Pom-pom animal (?)
For most of us in music, technique, whether with the baton, the voice, an instrument, or the composer’s pencil, is something we strive and strain to acquire, hoping that we’ll gain enough of it to give wings to whatever artistic insights we can muster. For Maazel, a child-prodigy conductor, it was just the opposite: musical matters were so easy for him—so were business negotiations; he had no agent—that he could readily become bored, fussing with the music when he should have been shaping it lovingly and giving it life.
Russell Platt remembers the distinguished American conductor Lorin Maazel: http://nyr.kr/1qYC1yR (via newyorker)
Skinny rainbow
Orange flower
Small daffodils
Rain
Le Gogh
Venereal (Venusian? Venerian?) transit. (6 June 2012)
Hanging flowers
M57
(60s exposure with red filter. 23:17:15 GMT 17 May 2013)