There's the music you hear.
There's the music you choose to listen to.
And then there's the music you feel, whether you choose to or not.

izzy's playlists!
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@theartofmadeline
Sweet Seals For You, Always

Kaledo Art

Discoholic 🪩
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

Origami Around
AnasAbdin
cherry valley forever
Keni
todays bird
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

ellievsbear
styofa doing anything

roma★

★

PR's Tumblrdome
Claire Keane

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seen from Mexico

seen from Malaysia

seen from Netherlands
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seen from Pakistan
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seen from United Kingdom
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seen from Italy
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@curiousmuse
There's the music you hear.
There's the music you choose to listen to.
And then there's the music you feel, whether you choose to or not.
Tomasz Klimczyk
“The sea was silent, the sky was silent; I was alone with the night and silence” - H.G. Wells.
When great trees fall, rocks on distant hills shudder, lions hunker down in tall grasses, and even elephants lumber after safety.
When great trees fall in forests, small things recoil into silence, their senses eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die, the air around us becomes light, rare, sterile. We breathe, briefly. Our eyes, briefly, see with a hurtful clarity. Our memory, suddenly sharpened, examines, gnaws on kind words unsaid, promised walks never taken.
Great souls die and our reality, bound to them, takes leave of us. Our souls, dependent upon their nurture, now shrink, wizened. Our minds, formed and informed by their radiance, fall away. We are not so much maddened as reduced to the unutterable ignorance of dark, cold caves.
And when great souls die, after a period peace blooms, slowly and always irregularly. Spaces fill with a kind of soothing electric vibration. Our senses, restored, never to be the same, whisper to us. They existed. They existed. We can be. Be and be better. For they existed.
Maya Angelou
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@notjustcookies
Caring for others to the very end.
Dearest friend, I carry you in my heart, and we will have our adventures.
If I come to you I will not be on my knees; grazed, bruised and broken. I will not crawl to your feet, wait for you to lift me up. If I come to you I will be standing tall, complete. I will stand before you, your equal. And then I will kneel. I will offer myself whole. Or not at all. curiousmuse.tumblr.com
CM
Please leave credits intact. Thank you.
@stilled
Constantin Brancusi: Muse endormie (Sleeping muse)
@stilled.