Accumulation.

"Da schwimmt alles vor meinen Sinnen und ich lächle dann so träumend weiter in die Welt."

[metamorphesque]

― Horace, The Odes of Horace

[soracities]

“The eroticism inherent in living things is scattered through the air, in the sea, in the plants, in us, scattered in the vehemence of my voice, I’m writing you with my voice…”

— Clarice Lispector, Água Viva

[feral-ballad]

Kazuko Shiraishi, tr. by Ikuko Atsumi, from Seasons of Sacred Lust; "Spring"

[lovestereo]

Visit Original Link

[unpunishablewoman]

i've never felt young lol i was 14 feeling like a three times divorced woman

[aidashakur]

Someone being patient with you is one of the softest forms of love

[nahalism]

so much about learning is finding comfort in displacement. knowing how to not know. knowing how to become something that has not yet been

[colorgrl]

[aura-eden]

From The Nature of the Beast by Sharon Hayes, 2019, at the MoMA, New York

[doomedyuri]

“People think that intimacy is about sex. But intimacy is about truth. When you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can show yourself to them, when you stand in front of them and their response is “you’re safe with me” - that’s intimacy.”

— The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo: A novel by Taylor Jenkins Reid (via jenshraders)

[fuckyeahwomenfilmdirectors]

Smithereens dir. Susan Seidelman (1982)

I thought you were so dynamic. So different. But you’re not, you’re just like all the other creeps I thought were my friends. 

[scntrx-deactivated20191108]

[suhaylah]

Three Pink Shrubs, Odd Flocks, and Trees of Milk (2021) shop: suhaylah.bigcartel.com instagram: @suhaylah.h

[allforthebee-deactivated2025061]

Ocean Vuong really said They say nothing lasts forever but they are just scared it will last longer than they can love it, and Mikko Harvey really said The number of hours we have together are actually not so large. Please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving. Please forget your scarf in my life and come back for it later, and Niall Williams really fucking said, It’s because people are so perishable. That’s the thing. Because for everyone you meet there is a last moment, there will be a last moment when your hand slips from theirs, and everything ripples outwards from that, the last firmness of a hand in yours that every moment after becomes a little less firm until you look down at your own hand and try to imagine just what it felt like before their hand slipped away. And you cannot. You cannot feel them. And then you cannot quite see them, there’s blurry bits, like you’re looking through this watery haze, and you’re fighting to see, you’re fighting to hold on, but they are perishing right before your eyes, and right before your eyes they are becoming that bit more ghost.

[huariqueje]

Night walk   -    Janis Clarke , 2021.

Australian , b. 1983

Oil on linen, 56 x 66 cm

[metamorphesque]

— Virginia Woolf, a diary entry

[soracities]

“You ache. You ache all over. You are aching to be you, but you’re scared of what it means to do so.”

— Caleb Azumah Nelson, Open Water