lane, they/them. artwork in my header is beaver swamp by lawren harris. i follow from a different blog

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@arskine
lane, they/them. artwork in my header is beaver swamp by lawren harris. i follow from a different blog
digital collage, 10/2025
album cover for a toyota corolla CD mixtape to be played on the drive to tboy oil wrestling in montréal, qc
was walking through the trees by the water last week as the rain came down through the willows and before me there lay an unmoving canadian goose. rain droplets rolled off its wings. its neck lay stiff. i wonder if it died before the rain moved in, or if it spent its last moments shivering. i stared at it for a long time
you know that you’re avoiding it
what does it mean when you’re standing in the doorway of the home you’ve always wanted but no one can meet your eyes?
lament to body & soul (the memory fades but the feeling still aches)
a story about late summer and living alone
aren’t you tired of letting apathy hurt you?
the centre of a world that doesn’t belong to the rest of us (or: a city gilded with tarnished brass)
text messages without response & train rides
deliberate acts of self destruction. thinking about this. it’s weird isn’t it? i think i need to hang out with friends more often
an ode to suburban childhoods & pandemics
there’s something equal parts of humbling and awed when i find out an artwork that i love was created on a small canvas. the most moving piece of art i’ve ever seen, and i could hold in one hand. all the wonder and love that i feel came from one page in a sketchbook, or from one canvas in a series of dozens more. everything massive is smaller than you think when it’s right in front of you
(—but also knowing that i can’t do anything about it.)