Fioritura

Like a silver idol, weighing down her white dress

[girlsingreenfields]

Dakota Johnson, Hari Nef and Petra Collins for Gucci Bloom

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What I’m living for

[dniudsnf]

I want a cottage with a stream behind it and a forest that goes for miles on and deer are seen peeking out from the branches. Tea is brewing and my garden’s flowers are blooming. I am at peace with the world and full of kindness.

[muirin007]

We think history is so far removed from us, but sometimes I’m reminded how very close we are to each other on the timeline.

My paternal grandfather was born in 1906 (I have older parents). He and my grandmother came through Ellis Island.

My vocal coach’s grandparents survived the 1906 San Fransisco earthquake and fire. 

My great-grandfather lived to the age of 106. He often spoke of how strongly he remembered his nursemaid’s taffeta skirts rustling as she walked when he was a child. He was born in the 1870s. My grandmother recorded him on video in the 1980s talking about those Victorian bustle skirts he grew up with.

On my mother’s side, we tracked down a marriage record for her 17th-century English ancestors, their signatures still crystal-clear and confident on the yellowed parchment. The church where they were married still stands in London.

Samuel J. Seymour was born in 1860 and at age five, he witnessed the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. Almost 100 years later, at age 96, he went on live television and recounted his firsthand account of the death of the president. You can watch the interview here.

The last survivor of the sinking of the Titanic, Millvina Dean, died in 2009. 

The oldest person ever, Jeanne Calment, lived to age 122. She died in 1997 after recording a pop album, the same year The Spice Girls were topping the charts; but she remembered that as a child, Vincent Van Gogh once visited her father’s paint shop. 

It’s easy to think of history as abstract, black and white, theoretical. But do some digging–you’ll probably find that it’s within arm’s reach.

[aphrilisstate-blog]

I love everything about this post. Memories are powerful things, transcendent really: they can live with us forever, time takes its toll on us but it can never erase our deepest and fondest memories. To think that one can last from the start of a century to the end of it fascinates me greatly

[dappledwithshadow]

Claude Monet Detail from The Artist’s Garden 1881

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[seaymph]

“I simply love that tinge of Botticellian pink, that raw rose about the lips, those wet, matted eyelashes…”

— Vladimir Nabokov (via pattiocleavis)

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[aphrilisstate-blog]

Só há uma felicidade na vida, amar e ser amado

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In Bloom

[cottonvibes]

wishing i was on a balcony in italy, wearing a long floral dress, eating fresh fruit, and staring at the sunset and landscape below me

[aphrilisstate-blog]

Just give in…

[thumo-leonta-deactivated2020092]

Georges Rochegrosse (1859–1938), Le Chevalier aux Fleurs (The Knight of the Flowers) (detail) (1894), oil on canvas, 235.5 x 374 cm, Musée d'Orsay, Paris. Wikimedia Commons.

[thereisnoforgetting]

Ferdinando Scianna, Marpessa in her bed, Amsterdam, 1990.

[inspiration-patterns]

[uyesurana]

your body is your canvas

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