“I am tired of hating myself, tired of loathing. / I want to be carried in a petal / sling, sling of satin and cream, / I want to be dazed, I want the waking sleep.”
— Sharon Olds, from One Secret Thing; ‘Pansy Coda’ (via pegaslullaby)

oozey mess
Three Goblin Art
sheepfilms
hello vonnie
occasionally subtle
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Sade Olutola
YOU ARE THE REASON
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Cosmic Funnies
trying on a metaphor

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Xuebing Du

tannertan36
styofa doing anything
Cosimo Galluzzi
we're not kids anymore.

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Misplaced Lens Cap

seen from Türkiye
seen from Singapore
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Singapore

seen from United States

seen from Vietnam

seen from United States
seen from Italy

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Iraq

seen from Singapore
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seen from United Kingdom
@artofephemera
“I am tired of hating myself, tired of loathing. / I want to be carried in a petal / sling, sling of satin and cream, / I want to be dazed, I want the waking sleep.”
— Sharon Olds, from One Secret Thing; ‘Pansy Coda’ (via pegaslullaby)
Marie-Claire Bancquart, from “I Walk in the Solitude of Books,” wr. c. 1963
“I want to have more sex, travel more, drink more wine and love life.”
— Zoe Saldana
hey anyone else trying to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves ?
“In this story, you are the moon and I am the sun and I chase you round the earth with my arms wide open until we settle into the atmosphere. Every day I write you a star and it’s in this way that the whole sky fills with what I feel for you. In another story I meet you in the frame of a still life, with your goblets of wine and your bowls of fruit all arranged just so. In another, I meet you again; this time in a garden, your mouth like a pomegranate, red and hungry. It’s here we fall in love; in this story and the one after and the one after that. Since the beginning of time, it’s been like this; this returning to the heart of you so like the ocean does to shore. Somewhere, light years away, we are lying in a field- maybe foxes, maybe two flowers, maybe as we are right now- staring into the infinity of space. I trace the universe onto the expanse of your back and try to tell you the story of the stars but every time, it’s your name in my mouth; your thousand and thousand names.”
— Story of the Stars (via artofephemera)
“(and what have you to say, wind wind wind – did you love somebody and have you the petal of somewhere in your heart pinched from dumb summer?”
— E.E. Cummings, from Other Seasons, Other Creatures. (via xshayarsha)
“She smiled at me, and I felt a sudden burning tenderness for this creature so like fruit and roses. I desired her like blue water at dawn.”
— Renée Vivien, tr. by Jeanette H. Foster, from “A Woman Appeared To Me,”
“Travel and tell no one, live a true love story and tell no one, live happily and tell no one, people ruin beautiful things.”
— Khalil Gibran (via drinkingteawithelephants)
@ august please be a little gentle with me I’m so tired
“If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk through my garden forever.”
— Alfred Lord Tennyson
“Grief never ends. But it changes. It’s a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith. It is the price of love.”
— Anonymous (via wnq-anonymous)
“blackberries and smushed blueberries and fresh wildflowers wilting in a vase next to dandelions and blisters under polka dot bandaids and dimmed lamps and new drinks that make my nose crinkle up and the number 20 doesn’t seem so small anymore”
— Miriam Kamens, a mixed up kind of summer (via bumbleblossoms)
“Moonlight is sculpture; sunlight is painting.”
— Hawthorne, American Note-Books, 1838 (via lucybiederman)
“Once, I saw a bee drown in honey, and I understood.”
— Nikos Kazantzakis, Report to Greco
i need a garden….. i need a cottage and i need a garden… some gardening gloves…… a watering can…….. and a strawberry patch
“Do I exhaust you? Does the sky get tired of its heart burning all day long?”
— Ruth Baumann, from “Knowledge Was Never the Answer,” published in The Ampersand Review