A Z A V A T H

Wgłąb. Wdół. Wczerń.

[xanaxfarts]

La Donna Scandalosa, a late-seventeenth-century memento-mori wax and cloth piece from Oratorio Compagnia dei Bianchi Della Giustizia, Naples. It was created to serve as a warning to women who have led a dissolute life.

[sixpenceee]

“Stop! Here lies the empire of death.” Seen in the Paris Catacombs.

[majestativa]

Love works in favor of death. Harvesting souls restlessly  and in vain. For everything must sink into the heart of the Earth, just as everything must reemerge from it.

IWAN GILKIN — La Nuit ✣ “L’Amour Fossoyeur”, (1897)

[un-sterb-lich-deactivated202203]

Female cadaver, Hyman Bloom 1954

[poetic-questions]

from "Mirages: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin (1939-1947)"

[arkashas]

The idea of Hannibal playing nurse to Will - cleaning his wounds in water and holding his hands and bandaging them - on one level there's an eroticism and on the other hand, so to speak, there's almost a Christ like quality of Christ washing the feet of all his apostles, in a way. There's - there's eroticism and religious symbolism in the relationship which I am constantly finding new levels to. - Bryan Fuller, Naka-Choko audio commentary

[arcadiainteriorana]

“The mystery of love is the aspiration to annihilation. The one who loves, Leopardi says, is the one who understands the nobility of death. Every creature, Leonardo da Vinci says, aspires to its death. In reality, every soul, whatever it is, aims towards a better life through death. The earthly life is succession of metamorphoses. It is so each day, each month, each year. In each year, the living is stripped of one form to adopt a more perfect one. […] To a more profound metamorphosis must correspond, according to the universal law that is analogy, a passage to an existence of a superior order and finally a passage from the finite to the infinite, from the relative to the absolute.”

— Félix Ravaisson, Testament philosophique.

[mirrorsinner]

[majestativa]

I will hurl your fear into the abyss of your pleasure. My tongue in your blood. […] The swooning drunkenness of our destinies.

FLORIANO MARTINS — The Dedalus Book of Surrealism: The Myth of the World (Ed. Michael Richardson), transl. by Margaret Jull Costa, (1994)

[inlovewiththemooon]

[red-ibis-red]

"I shall be waiting for you. You know that when you come home, weary, with blood on your hands, I shall be waiting there among the birches. You will rest your head in my lap, and I shall kiss your burning forehead and wash the blood from you. I shall be waiting, and I shall love you."

—Pär Lagerkvist, The Eternal Smile: Three Stories

[pierppasolini]

Frankenstein (2025) // dir. Guillermo del Toro

[derangedrhythms]

“Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling…”

— Oscar Wilde, from ‘De Profundis’

[gougeddoll]

[momentogory-deactivated20240504]

If there’s no blood pact, soul merging, red string of fate type of bond, I don’t want it.

[fashionlandscapeblog]

Antony Gormley

Together (Falling), 2022

Inkcap on paper.

[a-zavath]

Jestem kornikiem w Twoich ścianach. Czarnym chrząszczem żłobiącym ścieżki i wzory w ciepłym drewnie. Robalem, który prędzej, czy później osłabi Twoją konstrukcję i wymusi naprawę lub przebudowę. Możesz nazwać mnie szkodnikiem, ale wiem, że mnie potrzebujesz tak, jak ja potrzebuję Twoich ścian...