𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚛𝚎𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢𝚍𝚞 𝚎𝚝𝚘𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚏 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚒𝚜𝚗𝚘𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚏𝚘 𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎 𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑

JVL
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styofa doing anything
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
AnasAbdin

izzy's playlists!
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almost home
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

Andulka

PR's Tumblrdome
ojovivo
dirt enthusiast

titsay
Today's Document
i don't do bad sauce passes
YOU ARE THE REASON

if i look back, i am lost
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@cdbrain
𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚛𝚎𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢𝚍𝚞 𝚎𝚝𝚘𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚏 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚒𝚜𝚗𝚘𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚏𝚘 𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎 𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑
𝚒𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚠𝚘 𝚛𝚕𝚍𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚋 𝚒𝚐𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚖 𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚝𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚠 𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚏𝚕𝚘 𝚘𝚍𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚋 𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚝𝚊𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚓𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚊 𝚙𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚜𝚌𝚊 𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚊𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊
𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚠𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚛𝚍𝚘𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋 𝚎𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚘𝚖 𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚊𝚑𝚊 𝚗𝚘𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚏𝚋𝚕𝚘 𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜𝚍𝚛𝚘 𝚠𝚗𝚎𝚍𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕 𝚍𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚠𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚠 𝚊𝚢𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚒𝚠 𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚒 𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚑 𝚠𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚍𝚋𝚘𝚍 𝚒𝚎𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚍𝚒 𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚗 𝚐𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚍𝚊𝚠 𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚞𝚗 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍𝚋𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚝𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜𝚗 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚑
𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚒 𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊
𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚋𝚘𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚑
𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗𝚖𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚜 𝚜𝚠𝚑𝚢𝚑𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚊𝚑
𝚒𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚘 𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚋𝚎𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚑
𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚠𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚟 𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚏𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚋 𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍𝚋𝚢𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚖𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚠𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒 𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚑𝚎𝚕 𝚍𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚢𝚍𝚊𝚠𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚍𝚊 𝚗𝚍𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕 𝚍𝚋𝚒𝚍𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚋𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚒 𝚗𝚟𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚋 𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚢 𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚎𝚗𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚖 𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚔 𝚢𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚞 𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚑
𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚘 𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕 𝚎𝚊𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚊𝚑𝚊
Some things never change.
It is so heavy. The doorknob. It won't budge.
Once I get out of this room, everything will be so much better.
One spring, I remember stepping outside. I remember the trees, even the concrete buildings, being so vivid, so saturated with color. It was a cloudy day, somehow. There was a strange relationship between the vividness and the overcast. I think what made it magical was the way the clouds reflected the light, or something like that. I tried to photograph everything, all of it. Photographs. I wanted to share. I kept stopping, awed. Felt like a child. It just never ended. Every step opened up a new landscape.
Anyway, I eventually got out of the room. Just now, in fact. But it's night, so I'm out of luck. Life doesn't grant such miracles often. Still, it's spring again, and the wind smells almost the same, just colder. I'm thankful for that.
Breathless. No dreams for a long time. I must stop taking photographs of everything. I think it prevents me from seeing dreams. And messes up how the brain stores memories.
I am shouldering a heavy coat, but underneath I'm in shorts. I never changed. It is too cold now.
Ah. I see. I am hacked. I am compromised, taken over. There is no fix.
It is what it is. Not blaming anyone other than myself for taking so many photographs. I at least know how the end always is. It's raining again.
The unseen, the eternal river of understanding Persevering, dying escape Forever tempting fate
Into deep black water. And breathe!
Love transcends itself. Then, love is no longer love. Not something held toward a crush, a lover, a friend. It has no category, no hierarchy. It is just love, and maybe what spills out is a will turned inside out, or a wanting that cannot find itself and so reaches toward someone, something, anything that might resemble it, or maybe it spends a lifetime gathering coincidences, mistaking them for answers it was always seeking, but because it cannot be destroyed no matter what, it is just and simply and purely love. It spreads and it sticks, and it hurts, and it hurts. What hurts is alive, what can be hurt is alive. It is what the very essence does, it tries to morph into a cloak to protect from cold, it tries to pave itself into a path to be walked on, it tries to bloom into a wonder so that it can be seen and wondered at, and it sometimes wants to look at a mirror. It cannot be bound by its own bounds, it transcends. It is life. So love is life. It tries to become the blood and burst from the vein it runs through. Then, it blinks at its shadowy friend, the only friend it has, in a yearning to finally close the loop. But it retreats so the loop is not closed. It transcends.
Neither red nor blue.
Sometimes I don't process things the first time, but I swear I was listening. I'd kill to understand what my ears did not catch. Could you say that again? The coffee is okay; it complements a smokable substance that I am hopelessly addicted to, but this is between you and me, like, the neighbors must not know. Change perspective? I object. End perspective. When the context gets too large, it simultaneously gets too small. Do you want a wrench stuck in your eye? You have exhausted all the angles, so stop looking. Why must you take refuge in a slogan while your goal was to oppose them all? It all comes down to forgetting. No matter how careful you are, you always forget. Then you forget yourself, why you are here, what brought you here, and you just try assembling bits and pieces you've already connected before. You hold them in your hands and look at them. The screw just spins and spins. Aha. Eat fish or something.
Finish your coffee. Feel the sun if there is any. That's not a game, it's just disappointing. One makes you a victim. The other is just life being unfair. The data is in. You just don't want it to be the answer because it's not the one you wanted. That's just a mismatch. A cruel one, but a mismatch. How's the coffee? Try to give your brain a day off.