Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Show & Tell
Claire Keane

Kaledo Art
taylor price
sheepfilms
trying on a metaphor

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Today's Document
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Game of Thrones Daily

Origami Around

⁂
Acquired Stardust
hello vonnie

Product Placement

Kiana Khansmith
art blog(derogatory)

Discoholic 🪩
No title available
seen from Chile
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seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
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seen from Australia
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seen from United States
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seen from United States

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@davecortel
i miss you
just weekend things
boozed out with some beautiful people
Making you look worse is the only way they knew how to look better.
hi
Bits from this morning’s walk. I love how these turned out, low-key tempted to make a substack newsletter out of them LOL
early morning walk by the sea
(i know it won't 🥹)
Vincent Van Gogh, Patch of Grass, 1887.
Oil on canvas
morning, despite everything
they say the mornings here arrive soft—
sunlight slipping through capiz shells, tricycles coughing awake, the smell of rice already forgiving the night.
but lately,
even the light feels negotiated.
like it had to pass checkpoints before touching our skin.
we wake anyway.
we always do.
there is a kind of stubbornness in being pinoy—
a quiet, inherited insistence on continuing.
the news hums in the background
like a faulty electric fan,
spinning stories that feel rehearsed, promises folded into press releases, truth edited for comfort.
and still—
someone is boiling coffee in a dented pot, someone is laughing too loudly at nothing, someone is sweeping dust that will return tomorrow.
we have mastered this:
living beside absurdity
without naming it too often, because to name it is to admit how much it costs to stay.
there are days the country feels
like a house with too many cracks,
where the rain seeps in no matter how many basins we place underneath.
and yet we decorate it.
we hang parols in december, we paint the walls before fiestas, we invite guests
as if nothing is collapsing quietly behind the kitchen door.
maybe this is our tragedy—
or our brilliance—
this ability to endure without spectacle.
to carry disappointment
like it’s just another bag from the market.
but listen—
beneath the noise, beneath the careful silences,
there is a pulse.
not loud. not heroic.
just steady.
and sometimes,
that is enough
to keep a nation breathing through its own contradictions.
—truth, sometimes, arrives edited.
me vs. what I’m reading right now... look, i know, i’m literally years late to this one lol. it’s been sitting on my shelf for ages and i’m just now getting to it, but I’m obsessed!
POV: maagang naging ina