tea time fun

[thingsfromthedirt]

[populusfennicapatriam]

Unknown fallen soldier. Buried in Pistojoki, Finland 27th of July 1941.

Tuntematon vainaja. Haudattu Pistojoella 27.7. Pistojoki 1941.07.27

[chastecaress]

"i felt life to be a poem. i am a file somewhere in a drawer at the drug squad, a file", absences répétées starts with this phrase and i believe there was never a way so impacting to start a film, it tells everything about our protagonist in two phrases, in less than a minute. françois doesn't see himself as part of life, he is separated from it, life is as beautiful and full of meaning and feelings as a poem, but he is a file, nothing more than that. what he looks at from his apartment window is a world shot in color, but his apartment is shot in black and white, "the bedroom as a sealed island world" isn't part of the real world, just like françois isn't part of life.

[thingsfromthedirt]

[sadfviry]

I got new curtains（*´▽｀*）

[childwhimsyaf]

[pam3pr]

[ourladyofperpetualnaptime]

beauty:beast wool mittens with pawpads

[band-aids-blog]

[gouged-doll]

current collection

[dame-de-pique]

Roses très épanouies, 1910-15

[dersiebentekontinent]

[chastecaress]

Absences répétées (1972) dir. Guy Gilles

[chastecaress]

Absences répétées (1972) dir. Guy Gilles

[chastecaress]

i just watched absences répétées 1972 and i'm listening to the movie theme song on repeat. it was a movie that felt so personal to me, and the passage of time is one of the main subjects of it. it made me think about looking at old black and white photographs, watching movies from the 1960s and before, listening to songs from decades ago, listening to the voice and seeing the faces of all those dead people or people that won't be alive in the next twenty years, it usually feels like routine, but now it made me reflect on mortality and time. listening to the beautiful voice of jeanne moreau and looking at her old photographs, she is dead, slowly all the people that met her will also die, and what will be left is a shell of her, a small part that survived, her movies, her songs, the photographs, but all important events, smiles and tears, everything will be forgotten; and she is lucky, because for most people not even a shell of themselves survive. and this is true for every artist i admire, they are dead or will probably die much sooner than me. even with the tragedy of slowly disappearing from the world i also believe that for an artist death is a blessing, one day you will be remembered only for what matters, your art.

[longing4angels]

Photography by Eveleen Myers: Leopold Hamilton Myers as "The Compassionate Cherub," 1880s

[bijouu]