Uncuffing Season
Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

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Cosmic Funnies
Cosimo Galluzzi

JBB: An Artblog!

titsay
Acquired Stardust
todays bird
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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Not today Justin

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RMH

pixel skylines
cherry valley forever
Jules of Nature
$LAYYYTER
styofa doing anything
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@3dspenguin
Uncuffing Season
Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
Brandy Norwood with Paolo Montalban in Cinderella (1997)
Laissez l'océan laver vos péchés.
do you believe in god?……
….it’s in me.
MARGARET ATWOOD x WALTON FORD
‘Let Us Now Praise Stupid Women’, Good Bones and Simple Murders (1994);
Gleipnir (2012), watercolor, gouache, ink, pencil on paper, 69" x 120" x ½".
I adore my everyday luxuries: sleeping naked, fresh cheese and jam for breakfast, lying on my back and stretching all my limbs, using honey as a face mask, rubbing coconut oil on my booty, choosing a new recipe, the wind giving my cheeks a glow, reading next to him, subtle signs of affection
‘“To all in search of truth. Greeting.” The mystic self. 1900.
A poem, an exercise in omitting letters.
by Thomas Penny
The signs as Salvador Dali paintings (Libra-Pisces) pt 2.
do you ever look back at your aesthetic development and feel contented with the change it underwent and your current sense of beauty acquiring a certain depth and color, a slightly greater sensibility in perceiving the world around you and learning to appreciate things for their resonance with your personality, not because of their superficial prettiness but because of striking a chord right within your mind, finding pleasure in phenomena you would not even have noticed in the past, ceasing the chase after outwardly pure beauty and abandoning the boring perfection, not minding to be a little tainted with ugliness and mischief, cherishing the decision and the way of falling in love with things by your own intellect, thus creating the beautiful within yourself instead of passively accepting what is pre-made to be externally beautiful, being the one who adds the true meaning and appeal to what is visible and composing the symphony out of coinciding sounds, places, words and emotions.
olivia de recat for the new yorker