
Kiana Khansmith

No title available

JBB: An Artblog!
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Stranger Things
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Three Goblin Art
d e v o n

shark vs the universe
Today's Document

roma★

#extradirty
sheepfilms
Not today Justin
will byers stan first human second
tumblr dot com
Cosmic Funnies

Janaina Medeiros
$LAYYYTER
seen from Kenya
seen from Greece

seen from Spain
seen from Poland
seen from United States
seen from Hungary

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Spain

seen from India
seen from Ireland
seen from Romania

seen from Brazil

seen from Singapore

seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia
seen from Ireland
seen from United States
@cassieboko
Dogfish
by Mary Oliver
Some kind of relaxed and beautiful thing kept flickering in with the tide and looking around. Black as a fisherman’s boot, with a white belly.
If you asked for a picture I would have to draw a smile under the perfectly round eyes and above the chin, which was rough as a thousand sharpened nails.
And you know what a smile means, don’t you?
I wanted the past to go away, I wanted to leave it, like another country; I wanted my life to close, and open like a hinge, like a wing, like the part of the song where it falls down over the rocks: an explosion, a discovery; I wanted to hurry into the work of my life; I wanted to know, whoever I was, I was
alive for a little while.
It was evening, and no longer summer. Three small fish, I don’t know what they were, huddled in the highest ripples as it came swimming in again, effortless, the whole body one gesture, one black sleeve that could fit easily around the bodies of three small fish.
Also I wanted to be able to love. And we all know how that one goes, don’t we?
Slowly
the dogfish tore open the soft basins of water.
You don’t want to hear the story of my life, and anyway I don’t want to tell it, I want to listen
to the enormous waterfalls of the sun.
And anyway it’s the same old story– a few people just trying, one way or another, to survive.
Mostly, I want to be kind. And nobody, of course, is kind, or mean, for a simple reason.
And nobody gets out of it, having to swim through the fires to stay in this world.
And look! look! look! I think those little fish better wake up and dash themselves away from the hopeless future that is bulging toward them.
And probably, if they don’t waste time looking for an easier world,
they can do it.
Rainer Maria Rilke, Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God [originally published 1905]
Illumination
Harald Moltke
Iceland. 1900
Hilma af Klint
Group IX/SUW No. 12, The Swan No. 12
1915
Jo Barry - Silent Guardians (etching)
Out of the Dark...
oil paintings on wood by Angela Lane (1974-)
instagram | prints
Believer, Witchoria
Ulla Thynell