This Grad Life

PhD student in History/Activist/Tea Drinker/Gamer/Runner/"Just Taking A Break"

[lestweremember]

““I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were coming or I’d have cleaned up a little more. My life, I mean, not just the apartment.””

— ― Audrey Niffenegger, The Time Traveler’s Wife

[alwaysbringabookwithyou]

02.06.2021 “June was white. I see the fields white with daisies, and white with dresses; and tennis courts marked with white. Then there was wind and violent thunder. There was a star riding through clouds one night, and I said to the star, ‘Consume me.’ That was at midsummer.” - Virginia Woolf

Instagram: @phdoingmydamnbest

[books-tea-and-pie]

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A post shared by Aniko | Soul Art (@aniko.arts) on Oct 18, 2020 at 7:42am PDT

[artfoli]

Details of Vengence is Sworn, 1851, by Francesco Hayez (1791-1882)

[sapphicwomanwithnopatience]

dark academia in islamic culture

 studying at the side of the greats during the islamic golden age of art and science… walking the paths of the great palaces, taking breaks from studying the stars in the gilded halls, reading manuscripts in the candle light, making a name for yourself under the the reign of the newest sheikh 

i got very tired of the euro-centric vision with dark academia, so i raise you this… dark academia isn’t just for white people, christians, or arts majors

[firstfullmoon]

women reading in peter vilhelm ilsted (1861–1933)

[bookstofilms]

“The problem, as I see it, is that you’ve been told and not told. You’ve been told, but none of you really understand, and I dare say, some people are quite happy to leave it that way.”

Never Let Me Go directed by Mark Romanek based on the 2005 novel of the same name by Kazuo Ishiguro

[books-tea-and-pie]

Nocturne with Rain

by ​​Uma Dwivedi

I am writing of rainfall as my bedroom burns. We are trying to make the best of things, we are all of us doomed. Here’s the smoke, her vicious quickening, hungry tendrils, here’s the moment where I write you, write rain, & mean any nameless god that will take me as a lover. I’m greedy. I want someone to adore on my knees. You thunder me open, flush me through, hold me closer than skin. I tell you I love you & my heart is skinless on the floor, it is all that crouches between me & my most wretched twin. The smoke breaks my kneeling heart, but darling, we are still here. I want to press your body against my flaming door. I live in hope unbearable: your mouth open wide enough to hold our flight.

[darkmacademia]

my sketches of my favourite angel statues with a sepia fineliner. 

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Dacia Maraini, tr. by Tim Vode, from “Dreams of Clytemnestra,” wr. c. 1994

[wizardnem]

wizard tea 

[jasmineandviolet]

Woman reading by candlelight, Peter Ilsted, 1908

[vizuart]

Hilma af Klint, Evolution No. 14, Group 6, 1908

[theseymourbirkhoff-deactivated2]

Andromache of Scythia

[books-tea-and-pie]

Sometimes biphobia really gets to me and I think, you know, I married someone of the opposite gender, maybe I’m really not that queer? And then I watch The Old Guard and go....Yes. I am 100% sexually attracted to every single human in this film

[195195119511951-deactivated2021]

“It was like being alive twice.”

Linda Gregg

[books-tea-and-pie]

The Lamb

by Linda Gregg

It was a picture I had after the war. A bombed English church. I was too young   to know the word English or war, but I knew the picture. The ruined city still seemed noble.   The cathedral with its roof blown off was not less godly. The church was the same   plus rain and sky. Birds flew in and out   of the holes God’s fist made in the walls.   All our desire for love or children   is treated like rags by the enemy. I knew so much and sang anyway.   Like a bird who will sing until it is brought down. When they take   away the trees, the child picks up a stick   and says, this is a tree, this the house and the family. As we might. Through a door   of what had been a house, into the field   of rubble, walks a single lamb, tilting   its head, curious, unafraid, hungry. from Chosen By the Lion

[neoyorzapoteca]

The Woman Dies | Aoko Matsuda | Granta Magazine