blood with blood

SLATURE'S SIDEBLOG.

[brokenightlight]

[kafk-a]

Ada Limón

[friendlylocalwhumper]

hi i’m here to talk about characters with aches

aches from old injuries. finicky battle wounds, stiff joints from being restrained in captivity - things that their body never erased, pain that reminds them every day of what they went through. maybe it’s obvious, like a limp, or maybe it’s something that is only clear with early morning stretches and groans. maybe the aches grow worse in rainy weather, or when they think about the injury that caused the soreness.

a character who has to live with aches, and the painful memories behind them.

[expressions-of-nature]

by Valentina Vershinina

[lifeinpoetry]

Childhood? Which childhood? The one that didn’t last? The one in which you learned to be afraid …?

— Li-Young Lee, from “A Hymn to Childhood,” Ink Knows No Borders: Poems of the Immigrant and Refugee Experience

[doradorapuff]

one quote//four lockscreens - the iliad

please like if you use please do not repost or delete the caption.

[wishbzne-deactivated20210526]

into the breach, ocean vuong

[ID: “To keep & be kept.” end ID]

[lifeinpoetry]

“this body is just a bad dream”

— Jess R. Sutton, from my only regret is having a body

[darkearthsuggestions]

Mosses make an earth of your bones and sparrows nestle in homes of your hair, vines clamber up the lines of your body and flowers flourish under your kindest words. Every part of you will be loved by the one that reclaims it. Through them you will live many lives. Of each one be proud.

[gothhouseclique]

[stabyouth]

(don’t rb) :)

[huariqueje]

Laze II   -   William Thompson , 2018.

American, b. 1980s

oil on canvas, 7 x 12 in.

[enterlilith]

“I feel entirely dehumanised by the sun now and wish for fog, snow, rain, humanity.”

— Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Edward Sackville-West c. September 1926 (via oiseauperdu)

[90377]

Dressed Forest by Jorge Verdasca - youtube

[salemwitchtrials-deactivated202]

My spirits were elevated by the enchanting appearance of nature; the past was blotted from my memory, the present was tranquil, and the future glided by bright rays of hope, and anticipation of joy.

Frankenstein, Mary Shelley  (via salemwitchtrials)

[metvmorqhoses]

Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one’s head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace.

Oscar Wilde, (16 October 1854 – 30 November 1900)

[parasoli]

(via photographer steph wilson sees strength in fellow female image makers)